


Unlocking Harry's Dress Code

by germankitty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 22:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/germankitty/pseuds/germankitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For business reasons, Draco needs to blend in with Muggles. He decides to ask Harry for help ... and ends up with a number of Armani suits. And more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unlocking Harry's Dress Code

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winterstorrm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterstorrm/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 
> 
> Written for the 2012 Smoochfest on LiveJournal; originally posted [here](https://sites.google.com/site/harrydracosmoochfest2012/home/2012-fics/unlocking-harry-s-dress-code). 
> 
> **AN 1:** The direction this story went in was inspired by the fashion shoot Daniel Radcliffe did for [Attitude magazine in March 2012](http://www.tomandlorenzo.com/2012/02/daniel-radcliffe-for-attitude.html). Together with the prompt of "Harry wears Armani", I just couldn't resist combining those two. :-) All other pictures used in this story come from various Google searches; no copyright infringement was intended. Unfortunately, I couldn't always find pictures of Dan or Tom dressed in the styles I was thinking of, so I substituted male models to illustrate what I had in mind when necessary. The pictures of Draco's office and fireplace are taken from [Eltham Palace, London](http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/daysout/properties/eltham-palace-and-gardens/). 
> 
> Dear prompter, I couldn't quite fit a coffee shop into the story, but I hope the promise of visiting [The Courtyard](http://www.thecourtyardgardens.co.uk/), a tea room in Poole (yes, it's real!) near the end will be enough. Sorry! 
> 
> **AN 2:** It's not vital that you follow the links to the photos, but I dislike giving overly-detailed descriptions of outfits when they aren't essential to the plot; as this is, in a way, a story about fashion, it's debatable whether they are or not, but … anyway. Taking a look should hopefully enhance your reading experience … and just think: If a picture really is worth a thousand words, I'm only sparing you the effort of slogging through an additional 43,000 words!

**Unlocking Harry's Dress Code**

 

 

**01.**

It wasn't often that Draco Malfoy had business at the Ministry of Magic; it was even less frequent that he got to see Harry Potter while there. Since they'd left Hogwarts they hardly moved in the same circles and rarely met … unless it was at some kind of social, usually rather formal, function they both happened to attend.

 

   Therefore, Draco had never cared overmuch about what Potter was wearing at any given time as long as he was dressed appropriately for the occasion, noting only in passing that, even when not in his Auror uniform, he was much more neatly turned out than during their school days. Which, as far as Draco was concerned, definitely fell under the heading of being a Good Thing.

 

   Recently, however, he'd started noticing Potter and his wardrobe choices much more (and more often) than was beneficial to his state of mind.

 

   Like now, as Auror Potter was striding through the rather sterile-looking hallways of Magical Law Enforcement towards Draco, who'd made an 11 o'clock appointment through his office.

 

   Draco had heard of, but never seen the Aurors' new field uniforms. Rumour had it that they had been introduced at Potter's suggestion, along with some Muggle techniques and simple pieces of technology. He didn't know how true that rumour was, didn't care that traditionalists like his father loudly bemoaned this pervasive development, but as crimes had been steadily going down in recent years – probably not so coincidentally since Potter had instigated those reforms – Draco simply didn't care one way or another. But watching Potter come towards him, wearing [one of those uniforms](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/1uniform_zps237c6264.jpg), made his mouth literally go dry – and he very much cared about _that_.

 

   _Unbelievable. The man actually has developed a sense of style!_

   His next thought was far more disturbing to his peace of mind than this rather astonishing discovery, however.

 

   _When, in Salazar's name, did Potter start looking so … shaggable? And why do I feel like I want to do just that – right here, right now?_

 

Draco barely managed not to drool as Potter stopped next to him and politely inclined his head.

   "Malfoy."

 

   "Potter."

 

   " _You're_ my 11 o'clock? And you're neither in chains nor apparently pissed off over some triviality … has the apocalypse started, then?"

 

   The slightly incredulous expression and raised eyebrow accompanying the snarky remark shouldn't have irked Draco as much as they did; after all, they'd both silently – and mutually – resolved that the less they interacted, the more peaceful their post-War coexistence was going to be. So far that resolution had served them well, but looking at the way the navy-blue uniform jacket with its double row of silver buttons molded to a pair of very nice shoulders, Draco thought he just _might_ start rethinking his stance.

 

   But irk him they did, and he couldn't help snarking right back.

 

   "Not yet, but I'm sure something could be arranged just to please you. Would you prefer a general Armageddon, or does it have to be a true Götterdämmerung?"

 

   The green eyes widened momentarily, then Potter laughed … freely and with genuine amusement.

 

   _Like he used to laugh with the Weasel. Never at something I said, though._

It really was annoying how much that still rankled, even ten years after they'd left Hogwarts.

 

   But it had happened now, here, today, and it was all Draco could do not to grin like a silly idiot.

 

  _Stop that right now,_ he admonished himself mentally. _His arse might not be half-bad in those uniform trousers, but I'm not falling in lust with Scarhead! Uh-huh. No way._

 

   "There's a difference?" Potter chuckled, then waved his hand. "Never mind, I don't think I want to know. Not before I've had some tea, anyway. Care to join me?" Potter unlocked his office door with a negligent gesture – the man may have been reputed to be on the fast track to becoming Head of MLE, but at the moment he didn't yet warrant a secretary of his own, much less an anteroom – and ushered Draco inside.

 

   Draco sniffed haughtily, but let Potter see the tiny twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. "Oh very well, if I must," he drawled, settling gracefully in the visitor's chair the other man indicated. He watched idly as Potter contacted someone somewhere within the Ministry via a device mounted on the wall and asked for a tea tray to be brought up, then briefly turned his back towards Draco as he divested himself of his uniform jacket.

 

   Draco surreptitiously checked out Potter's trim physique as he adjusted the collar and sleeves of the white shirt he'd been wearing underneath, loosened the narrow black tie and shrugged into a [medium-brown cardigan](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/2comfort_zps474a6970.jpg). For a second, Draco wondered why, but then realized it was most likely as much for comfort as to compensate for the room's cool temperature.

 

   _It's nice and not stuffy, but I guess for a whole day of sitting at a desk doing paperwork, it makes sense to dress warmly rather than overheat the air._

   Draco had always maintained that cardigans were inherently common and drab, something a Weasley or maybe a Longbottom would wear, but to his chagrin he had to admit that the outfit _worked_ – both for the man as well as the job and environment.

 

   _Casual enough to be comfortable for desk work, and yet at least semi-formal should he meet with visitors. Rather Muggle, of course, but … acceptable. Marginally._

 

   In comparison, Draco's own formal business robes, an outfit he'd thought perfectly fine and proper when he'd left home less than half an hour ago, suddenly felt overly ornate. Constrictive, even. The long overcoat, the stiff fabric, the embroidery on his sleeves and around the collar seemed too prim somehow, and the colour choice of _café au lait_ brown and creamy white _definitely_ had been a bad idea, no matter what Pansy had said as she'd helped him choose this particular set of clothing.

 

0_0

 

   Seeing how comfortably relaxed Potter looked, part of Draco couldn't help but think that maybe, just _maybe_ he might like to adopt a similar style for himself ... if his father didn't kill him first for blatantly flaunting tradition (and the Malfoy way) like this, of course. And if he could only be sure not to make a laughingstock of himself. Which kind of was what had spurred him to make this appointment in the first place.

 

   _But how to broach the subject?_

 

   Luckily, he gained a few moments' reprieve when an intern knocked and came in, levitating the requested tea tray. Potter was still busy clearing enough space on his desk, thus giving Draco enough time to collect himself and take stock of his surroundings.

 

  The office was a far cry from Draco's own premises; just big enough to house a desk, walls painted an inoffensive yet rather boring beige, a swiveling desk chair and another in a corner to be drawn up as needed, some shelving units and filing cabinets … standard Ministry-issue things which Potter seemed to keep reasonably neat. The best one could say about the place was that it was … well, functional. Draco idly

 catalogued the differences between Potter's and his own office as he waited for the other man to stop fussing with the tea things.

 

   Both rooms had a similar basic layout, sported pretty similar basic furniture. But that's where it ended. [Potter's furnishings were strictly utilitarian](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/4harryoffice_zpsd0d9dc0c.jpg) and less than pleasing to look at; he also was lacking some good artwork (the framed photographs did _not_ count) as well as decent carpeting.  Whereas [Draco's office space was subtly resplendent](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/5dracooffice_zpse9c3bfd4.jpg) with gleaming wood paneling and the floorspace partially covered by a thick, colourful Oriental rug; his desk and chair were original _Art Déco_ items, beautiful both in design _and_ function.

 

   Not to mention the period accessories and the hand-signed original artwork on the walls.

 

   For just an instant, he indulged himself by picturing Potter at his place, leaning back on the comfortable visitor's couch upholstered in warm brown velvet … legs spread over the armrests of the priceless antique, those tight arsecheeks held open, waiting to be ploughed into. By him.

 

   Or possibly even better, Draco himself bent over his desk, gripping the edge with both hands and Potter poised to take him from behind.

 

      _Whoa. Don't even go there! _ 

 

   Draco fought the urge to loosen his suddenly too-tight collar or adjust himself in his trousers. Unfortunately, he had a very good idea what had sent his thoughts into a direction he very much did _not_ want to go in. While the Auror had still been moving around to make room for the tea things and dealt with the intern, it became obvious that the space was just cramped enough to bring Draco's face to about the same height as Potter's spectacular arse. There even was a hint of Potter's dick visible at the front, not that Draco had dared look too closely. He'd had to swallow a needy moan with some difficulty and determinedly had glanced anywhere _but_ at Potter's crotch.

 

   Only the discipline he'd learned the hard way when the late, unlamented Riddle and his minions had stayed at the Manor enabled Draco to wrench his mind back into more appropriate channels … and the reason why he'd sought out Potter in the first place. Who somehow seemed able to read Draco's mind.

 

0_0

 

   "Well, as we established earlier that there's no imminent apocalypse you want me to avert, what else brings you to me?" Potter finally sat down behind his desk, opposite Draco, and slid a rather nice porcelain mug across the slightly-battered surface. Draco nodded his thanks as he took the first sip.

 

   _Mm, nice. Just the way I like it._

 

   It never occurred to him to wonder how or why Potter knew exactly how he took his tea – Earl Grey, with one sugar and a slice of lemon.

 

   "Well. You probably know about my business."

 

   "Who doesn't?" Potter said, leaning back with a smile as he cradled his own mug between both hands. Draco also didn't question how or why he knew it contained plain Assam, two sugars and a large dash of milk. After all, it wasn't as if they'd been obsessed with each other in school or anything, right?

 

   _Right!_

   The green eyes sparkled, and briefly Draco asked himself how he could've missed that Potter wasn't wearing glasses today. Not that he regretted their absence, or anything; it really would've been a shame to hide those thick, inky lashes …

 

   Potter's voice recalled him from these really quite inappropriate musings. For Merlin's sake, he didn't even know which side of the Quidditch pitch Potter was playing on these days! Draco played both teams, and he knew that Potter had dated the Weaselette for some time, but ever since their amicable – but still highly-publicised – break-up, news on that front had been so scarce as to be non-existent.

 

_Dammit, I'm doing it again! I really must pay better attention. Now what has Potter been saying? Oh, right …_

 

   "Furniture restoration and wholesale, right? From all reports, you're doing exceedingly well; congratulations."

 

   Draco inclined his head in thanks. After the War, he'd had to realize that for someone with his past, bearing the Malfoy name, a political career was out of the question … and that, for much the same reasons, no reputable Potions Master in Europe would take him on as an apprentice. Or if they did, he would not find work afterwards, no matter that Potter had spoken up at the family's trials. With his two first career choices probably permanently unrealisable, he'd been lucky to discover that a third choice was open to him when he started helping his mother redecorate the Manor. In an effort to be frugal, Narcissa had gone to the Manor's attic and basement rooms to see whether they might hold heirlooms to replace what their unwelcome 'guests' had despoiled, if not outright ruined or destroyed during most of 1997. While digging through decades of discarded furniture, Draco had come across a battered, broken, [18th-century travelling lap desk](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/6lapdesk_zpsdbbd3e37.jpg). Out of sheer boredom, he'd taken it to his rooms to see whether he could do anything with it.  

 

   It took him three months, hours in the library doing research and not-inconsiderable amounts of ingenuity and elbow grease, but he eventually finished his little project.

 

    Nine years on, Narcissa Malfoy was still proudly using the lap desk for her daily personal correspondence.

 

   An [heirloom music box](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/7musicbox_zps8209c440.jpg) from some long-dead Black ancestress, painstakingly restored to its former glory by Draco next, had made a suitable Christmas present for his Aunt Andromeda when the Sisters Black reconciled … and she had been the one who'd encouraged him in a tentative plan to turn this hobby into a business venture, by introducing him to the concept of Muggle car-boot sales, antiques fairs and reclamation yards. Once he'd toured a handful of such premises, marvelling at the hidden treasures discarded by others as irredeemable or even worthless, Draco was hooked. Using the talent he'd first discovered and honed during his work on the wretched Vanishing Cabinet during Sixth Year at Hogwarts, he'd started a furniture restoration business, for items of both Wizarding as well as Muggle origin … infusing the latter with just enough preservation and enhancement charms to make them suitable for a Wizarding household. True craftsmanship was universal, after all.

 

 

  Lucky for the fledgling business, there turned out to be a veritable boom after the War to rebuild, or at least redecorate;  once Arthur Weasley and the Office of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts had given him the go-ahead and he'd procured all necessary permits, Draco set up shop in a long-abandoned outbuilding on the edge of the Malfoy property. After the first few sales, word-of-mouth brought more business than Draco could handle on his own, and he felt confident enough to hire some talented craftsmen who not only helped cope with the steadily growing demand of his product, but also could – and did – train him beyond his innate knack. As of two years ago, Draco could afford to hand over the actual labour to his employees, restoring only a few chosen pieces himself each year. Narcissa provided the taste, Andromeda the knowledge of periods and style, and Draco was handling the business end of what had grown into [NaDrAn BMT Fine Furnishings](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/8businesslogo_zps57494fde.png), the Wizarding world's most exclusive and successful post-War business venture. Now that Lucius was back from Azkaban, he was quietly taking over finances, and Draco could concentrate solely on customer relations.

 

   Which not-so-indirectly was the reason that had brought him to Potter's office.

 

0_0

 

   _Get on with it already!_

 

   "Thank you. Then you probably also know that my Aunt Andromeda is a partner in the business?" Seeing Harry nod, Draco ploughed on. "Good. Which actually brings me to the reason why I'm here."

 

   "About time, too," Potter murmured with a small smirk.

 

   "Shut it, Scarhead," Draco replied in the same vein. "You're a Gryffindork, I need to use small words so you'll understand."

 

   "Yeah, yeah. Get to the point already."

 

   "I was about to, until you so rudely interrupted me."

 

   Potter gestured expansively. "Don't let me stop you, Ferret."

 

   This was new. Well, the insults they'd just traded weren't, but the fact that they'd been exchanged without heat or rancor.

 

   _Hmm. Interesting._

 

  It was a surprisingly pleasant change, and for once Draco didn't mind giving a bit of ground by acceding to Potter's request without further argument.

 

   "Right. Well. You see, up till now Aunt Andromeda did most of the buying; she enjoys it, and is far more familiar with the Muggle side of procuring merchandise than Mother or I could ever hope to be – for obvious reasons, as you'll admit." He made a small, wry grimace which Potter acknowledged with a small nod. The Malfoys might have buried or discarded a lot of their former prejudices and attitudes, but it was virtually impossible to overcome a lifetime of ignorance in such a relatively short time. There were enough aspects of Wizarding life and culture that Harry was still unfamiliar with, after all.

 

   "Anyway, the business has grown to a point where we need to negotiate directly with both our suppliers and customers, here in Britain as well as abroad. My aunt is not averse to travelling per se, but is reluctant to commit to frequent or too-lengthy business trips; with Theodore about to enter Hogwarts next year, she wants to stay nearby. Just in case."

 

   "Yeah, she told me about that," Harry nodded. "Never mind that Teddy will be safe at school nine months out of twelve, and in an emergency there'd be you, me or your mother the Headmistress could call on." The two young men exchanged a look of exasperation mingled with affection; they might chafe under the sometimes too-close scrutiny their families, adopted or otherwise, held them all, but both could name at least three women who they _knew_ would go to any lengths necessary to protect their children.

 

   Lily Potter. Narcissa Malfoy. Molly Weasley.

 

   There was no doubt whatsoever in their minds that Andromeda Black Tonks could – and would have, if she'd been given the chance – add her name to that list.

 

   "Was that why you wanted to see me? To convince Andy that between us, Teddy ought to be perfectly fine?"   

 

   "I'd actually appreciate that, just to set her mind at ease, but no, that's not why I'm here." Draco hesitated, still unsure whether he really should ignore all his old Slytherin habits that told him to approach a potentially sensitive matter in a roundabout fashion, with a certain amount of bargaining, asking favours in exchange for other favours, weighing offer against counteroffer.

 

   "Oh?" It was really quite astonishing to what a degree Potter was able these days to express curiosity as well as polite impatience with a single syllable; his tone of voice, combined with a barely perceptible glance to the clock on the wall and a twitch towards the nearest stack of files, was so subtle that a less trained observer than Draco might've missed it altogether. It also told him that the situation had gone beyond subtlety. With a hidden sigh, Draco got to the point.

 

   "My Aunt has long suggested that I involve myself more directly in the acquisition and sales process of our merchandise, now that I'm no longer needed that much in production. After giving the matter some thought, I am forced to agree with her – but to do that effectively, I need to be able to interact with Muggles." He paused, then amended his statement. "Effectively, that is. Even more, to blend in. And I was hoping that you could … well, show me the ropes, so to speak."  

 

**02.**

   Harry felt his brain short-circuit briefly as his imagination put the words 'Malfoy' and 'ropes' into a highly inappropriate (and wholly arousing) context. He'd heard rumours about Malfoy's proclivities that he usually preferred not to think about too deeply, given their rather volatile past, but when the man himself brought it up …

 

   _He's bringing something up all right!_

Hard-won discipline enabled Harry to keep his hands above the desktop and not let them drop into his lap to ease the tension caused by his burgeoning erection. He may have admitted – at least to himself – that he'd developed a definite _thing_ for tall, slender blonds with an aristocratic air about them, but that didn't mean he was ready to let the bloke who inspired this preference notice just how much he was affecting him.

 

   Not even when the [elegant robe](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/3businessrobe_zps78de16a6.jpg) hugging the lean figure sitting across from him right now reminded Harry very strongly of his favourite beverage, a tall, hot _caffé latte macchiato_.

 

And he felt a near-irresistible urge to lick, and slurp, and drink every little drop. Preferably with a touch of aged brandy afterwards, like the one he'd seen Malfoy sip from a crystal snifter at the last Ministry function they'd attended together.

Harry unobtrusively swallowed the saliva collecting in his mouth at the thought of tasting brandy straight from Malfoy's mouth.

 

   _Good Lord, I have it bad!_

   He sternly reminded himself that Malfoy had come to see him in a professional capacity – why else would he have sought him out here at the Ministry? Fantasizing about a fit bloke while wanking in the shower was one thing, doing so while at work quite another … and just not on. Especially when said fit bloke used to be his childhood nemesis. Besides, he didn't even know whether Malfoy would ever agree to it. While it was a badly-kept secret that both men and women who had escorted the blond around town had stayed overnight at the apartment he kept in the city, he could by no means count on reciprocal interest. Not in light of their shared history, anyway.

 

   _I wonder, though … say we could start over, let bygones be bygones … would he be interested? In me? What does he want from me, anyway? A  favour, apparently, and something to do with Muggles, but what?_

Only one way to find out. Harry leaned forward, placing his elbows on either side of the blotter and interlaced his fingers to keep them from twitching with sudden nerves.

 

   "Oh? In what way?"

 

   He was way more proud that he'd managed to keep his voice even than was warranted.

 

0_0

 

   Malfoy's expression turned just shy of embarrassed as he looked anywhere but at Harry.

 

   "There are several auctions and private estate sales scheduled for this summer where we've planned to restock. With Aunt Andromeda unwilling to go, it falls to me to go and do the actual assessments and buys … which will require at least some familiarity with the way the Muggle world functions. I have, of course, picked up many things over the years through my association with my Aunt, but this involves more than knowledge of furniture styles or art. I know about electricity, and telephones, what television is and so on, but it's mostly theoretical. I could tell you which means of transportation to use to from London to Bristol, say, but I'm still at a loss about how to actually _do_ so."

 

   He drew a deep breath and finally met Harry's gaze. "I'm asking you to teach me, Potter. How to travel, how to procure a decent meal, how to shop. As I said, the ropes." A faint blush stole across the pale face, and Malfoy's lips quirked into what would've become a full-blown sneer during their school days. "Most of all, I must know how to dress."

 

   _I'd rather show you how to undress!_

The thought popped unbidden into Harry's brain, and was ruthlessly squashed.

 

   _NOT. NOW!_

   It was all Harry could do not to gape in a most unbecoming fashion. Draco Malfoy, clothes horse extraordinaire, was asking fashion advice from _him_ , Harry Potter? The kid who used to wear his fat cousin's discarded clothes and had thoroughly been ridiculed for it? Surely this was a joke! He snapped his mouth shut.

 

   "Very funny, Malfoy," he said coldly. "Who put you up to this?"

 

   "No one," Malfoy murmured, not shrinking back at all from the dangerously glittering green eyes. "I really need help with this. You can Floo my Aunt, if you like; she'll confirm that I'm telling the truth."

 

   That nipped Harry's suspicions in the bud. There was no way Andromeda Tonks would take part in a prank like this, and if Malfoy was offering to have her verify his story … it must be true. And it wasn't as if he couldn't check whether these auctions and whatnot actually existed. He exhaled carefully and leaned back, suddenly feeling deflated … in more ways than one.

 

   "Okay – say that I believe you. Let me get this straight – you need someone to give you a quick course in how to … to impersonate a Muggle?"

 

   "Essentially, yes. Although I wouldn't call it impersonation, precisely; I don't plan to pretend someone I'm not, after all. All my business dealings and social interactions these days are as Draco Malfoy, entrepreneur – nothing more, nothing less. Well, unless I'm in private, among family or friends; then I'm just Draco." Draco realized to his mild horror that he was yea-close to babbling. _Just because I want you to call me by my given name, too …_ He cleared his throat. "I really just need to know how to move in a variety of social situations with Muggles without making a complete arse of myself."

 

   Coming from Malfoy, the quintessential Pureblood, it sounded preposterous, but Harry had to admit that it was at the very least plausible. Still, a remnant of their childhood animosity tempted him to tell Malfoy that he'd always be an arse, no matter where or how he was dressed. Manfully, he squelched the urge despite his lingering skepticism.

 

   "Hmm. Our trainees learn most of that in Muggle Orientation, so you could easily follow that syllabus."

 

   Malfoy shrugged, almost apologetically. "I suppose. But … can it be done in three months? The first estate sale I've scheduled is in May – I understand the Muggles have a long weekend then."

 

   "Ah, yes. Spring Bank Holiday." Harry smiled slightly at the look of incomprehension flitting across Malfoy's features. This was one of the little details that often confounded Wizards – why the last Monday in May was an official holiday whereas Beltane wasn't. To be fair, he wouldn't have known about the significance of Beltane if the Weasleys hadn't clued him in over the years.

 

   It also gave more credence to Malfoy's request – Harry still remembered the Dursleys taking Dudley on outings to stately homes with amusement areas, and that the estates often housed fairs of some kind on these weekends.

 

   "Never mind, it's a Muggle thing that's not really all that relevant."

 

   "If you say so." Malfoy relaxed slightly and finished his tea. "So, you'll help me?"

 

   It seemed a legitimate request, and Harry could see no harm in granting it. "Ah, why not. I can certainly find a trainee who will-"

 

   "No. Not a trainee," Malfoy interrupted. "I'm asking _you_."

 

   Both of Harry's eyebrows rose. "Me?"

 

   He was very familiar with the stubborn expression on the pale face. "Yes."

 

   "But … but why?!? I know next to nothing about your business or the people you'll be dealing with. And we're hardly friends, either!"

 

   The grey eyes, shining like polished pewter under the silvery-blond hair, met Harry's full-on. "Because I don't know anybody else who has grown up with Muggles and therefore has an insider's knowledge of what I need to learn about their daily lives. You also seem to have acquired – Merlin knows where, how, or why – the kind of dress sense that lets me hope you can at least point me towards the right kind of stores and tell me if or when I'd be about to make a mistake." Malfoy leaned ever so slightly forward. "And last, but certainly not least, I trust you not to use this as an opportunity to humiliate me."

 

   Now _that_ made Harry speechless. He'd been surprised by Malfoy's visit, hadn't expected the kind of request the man had just made of him, but to get a declaration of trust – and a bold, unequivocal one like this, to boot – from his childhood nemesis was simply stunning.

 

   "I, er … I really don't know what to say," Harry replied slowly once he'd gathered his wits. "Except thanks, I guess."

 

   "Eloquent as ever, I see."  Ah, _there_ was the sarcasm Harry had been waiting for. "You're welcome."

 

   This was the Malfoy he'd loved to hate – full of snark even when he was being ostensibly polite. However, contrary to the past there was no malice that Harry could detect. In fact, one could almost call it _teasing_ , and not be too far off the mark. Harry wouldn't go so far as say he was enjoying it, but he certainly didn't mind – after all, no one knew better than himself that eloquence wasn't one of his best talents. If this new – and in Harry's opinion vastly improved – Malfoy could keep their interaction at the current level, he thought he might just possibly get used to it. He made a snap decision.

 

   "Okay. I'll do it."

 

**03.**

   Malfoy entered [the Leaky Cauldron](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/9leakycauldron_zps2b2b40e7.jpg) a few minutes before Potter had asked him to, but to his relief the other man was already waiting for him. After a brief greeting, Potter ushered him into one of the private parlours.

 

   "Okay, let's get this show on the road," he said crisply, without preamble. "Strip."

 

   Whatever Draco had expected, this wasn't it. "Excuse me?" he sputtered. _Not that I'd mind if I knew you'd be interested, but certainly not here – and not now, surely?_

 

   Potter rolled his eyes. "Malfoy, you don't seriously expect to go into a Muggle clothing store, in Muggle London, meeting with sales personnel whose business it is to know about fashion wearing _robes_ , do you?"

 

   Draco felt himself flush. He'd thought that the conservative navy pinstripe robe, combined with a caped overcoat and a stiff black beaver hat, struck exactly the right balance between up-and-coming businessman and wealthy private buyer, both of which he wanted to convey. After all, the style had once been good enough for a senior Ministry official – and whatever else could be said about Bartemius Crouch, the man's dress sense had always been impeccable.

 

   _At least that's what Mother used to tell me!_  

 

   "My foreman's daughter is married to a Squib; he told me this _is_ suitable business attire and could pass as Muggle," he replied rather stiffly.  

 

   "Well, he told you wrong," Potter said, not unkindly. "Or rather, he didn't … if you were pushing old age and hadn't set foot into a city for the past fifty years, that is."

 

"…Oh." Draco was mortified. He wasn't nearly as fashion-conscious as most people believed him to be, but to hear that he was, in essence, dressed like an elderly country bumpkin was too much. It slowly dawned on Draco that Narcissa Malfoy had as little, if not even less, knowledge about Muggles and their customs and conventions as himself, thus not making her the most reliable fashion advisor … and that maybe his Aunt Andromeda, even though less stylish than her younger sister, would have been a more suitable choice to ask for advice. 

 

   Luckily, Potter let it slide. "Don't worry, we'll get you sorted in a minute." He tilted his head and gave Draco a thorough once-over. "Where does that daughter live, anyway? A Hippie commune?" he asked as he obviously deliberated how to change Draco's wardrobe.

 

   Draco had no idea what 'Hippie commune' meant, but wasn't about to admit ignorance to Potter. "If you must know, she owns [a business in Glastonbury](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/11glastonbury_zps07e9a15b.jpg)," he sniffed.

 

   "I rest my case," Potter said, making a very bad job out of stifling his laughter. Before Draco could retreat behind his icy mask, though, he chuckled and clapped a hand on the blond's shoulder. "Never mind, it's one of those Muggle things that are hard to explain offhand. Let's get you changed into something more appropriate, and we can be off."

 

0_0

 

   He drew Draco into the middle of the room and started prowling around him. Draco felt a pleasant shiver race down his spine as he watched Potter scrutinizing him from head to toe. Surely that meant he had the freedom to reciprocate, and he did just that. Potter was no longer the neatly-uniformed Auror; for one thing, he hadn't shaved, his hair was still messy (if more stylish), and was [dressed casually](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/10auror_zps376b8e51.jpg) in light blue jeans, an open-necked white shirt and a black leather jacket. Combined with the almost cat-like grace of his movements, he looked … dangerous.

 

  And way too gorgeous for a weekday morning, damn him.

 

   Draco felt flustered, and didn't like it. But before he could make one of his trademark snarky comments, he saw Potter draw his wand and point it at him. Instinctively, he stiffened.  Intellectually, he _knew_ that these days he was no longer in danger of being hexed within an inch of his life, but it had become a well-known fact that one faced the most famous holly wand in Wizarding history at one's own peril.  "Potter? What-" he started, only to be interrupted by the man.

 

   "Lose the hat."    

 

   "Huh? Oh. Right." Draco removed the stiff headgear with a secret sigh of relief and tossed it onto a nearby table.

 

   "Better," Potter commented, poking once at the lapel of the pinstripe robe. "Now, are you wearing trousers under this, or are you going traditional?"

 

   "Er, traditional."  Which meant fine linen breeches and knee-high stockings – quite obviously undergarments _not_ to be worn without decent covering.

 

   "Hmm. – How attached are you to your robe?"

 

   Draco shrugged. "It's an expensive piece, but to be honest, I don't think the style quite suits me. Why?"

 

   "It makes you look at least thirty years older," Potter replied. "So you wouldn't mind if I Transfigured it into something more suitable?"

 

   "As long as it's _just_ the robe you'll be Transfiguring," Draco answered after a moment's thought. He supposed he could Apparate home and change into trousers, or nip into Madam Malkin's for a pair, but why bother? As he'd told Potter, he didn't particularly care about the robe, and as long as he got something decent to wear out of it … "If you promise not to muck around with anything vital, go ahead."

 

  He was startled by the expression crossing Potter's mobile face.

 

   _Oh Merlin, he can't possibly be leering at me! … Can he?_

Judging by his smirk, Potter could. And did.  However, before Draco could even do as much as open his mouth to make a smart comment, Potter had him remove the contents of his pockets, then waved his wand in an unfamiliar pattern. A wash of magic swept over Draco from head to foot and he found himself dressed in jeans, trainers, a pale blue, V-necked jumper and a slouchy charcoal jacket. He squirmed uncomfortably as he realized even his underwear had been Transfigured into something short and much tighter than he was used to.

 

   _At least it's reasonably soft!_

Draco fought the urge to adjust himself. Not that he'd also be checking whether there'd been any damage – not at all. He trusted Potter. Right? _Better to check, though._

 

   "This is horrible! I can't wear this," he blurted after he'd caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. "Potter –"

 

   "Don't worry," the other man soothed. "This is just to get you into London and to the shops. My Transfiguration isn't precise enough for something better, and probably won't last all day, either.  At least you won't stick out until we've bought you a suit."

 

   After a moment's thought, Potter quickly also Transfigured the discarded beaver into a grey canvas messenger bag.

 

   "[There, that should do.](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/12scruffymalfoy_zps9304aa6d.jpg) You can put these clothes in there once we've found you something else."

 

   "I'm not walking around London all day carrying a bag over my shoulder!"

 

   "It's either that or plastic carrier bags with store logos," Potter informed him. "You don't want to raise suspicion by walking out with no visible purchases. Once we're done, you can go to a restroom somewhere else and shrink the whole thing to fit in your pocket, with no-one the wiser." 

 

   "Hmph." Only marginally satisfied, Draco was still feeling vaguely horrified at the fit and feel of garments he wasn't used to – after all, he hadn't worn trousers since he'd finally got rid of his school uniform, and _never_ ones made from this atrocious, common, Mugglish blue fabric! Didn't the _Weasleys_ used to wear this? He shuddered at the memory. Therefore he didn't notice at first that Potter was again wandering in a tight circle around him, looking over his spellwork.  Once he did, though, he could almost _feel_ those green eyes lingering on his backside. He clenched his buttocks in an instinctive reaction – and not even a hippogriff on a rampage would've been able to drag out of him that he quite liked knowing Potter might be ogling him. Or the implications of that, if he was right.

 

   "Never knew you'd fill out a pair of jeans so well, Ferret."

 

     There was very little Draco could say to that without giving too much of his inner feelings away. "Was there ever any doubt?" he sneered, sarcastic as ever. "If you've quite finished checking me out, Scarhead …"

 

   "For now," Potter smirked, completely unfazed. He simply opened the parlour's door and gestured for Draco to precede him into the Leaky's tap room. "Let's go, shall we?"

 

   Momentarily bereft of speech at Potter's sheer gall, Draco wisely refrained from making any other assumptions and meekly trailed after Potter out of the Leaky Cauldron into Muggle London.

 

0_0

 

   Five minutes later, he was hard-pressed not to gape when Potter guided him out of the small alley that housed the Leaky Cauldron towards an incredibly busy street teeming with people, buses and all kinds of vehicles. Not that he hadn't known London was a far cry from Diagon Alley (or any other Wizarding shopping district he'd ever been to), but having been told something and finding oneself right in the centre of it … it was an eye-opener, to say the least.

 

   Harry gave him a few minutes to take everything in; he knew exactly how Malfoy must feel. Even if it had been the other way 'round for him, that first time Hagrid had shown him a first glimpse of the Wizarding world on his 11th birthday, nearly twenty years ago. But it was only going to get busier as the day went on, so eventually he reminded his companion that they needed to go.

 

   Almost dazed, Draco followed. He was too busy to look around, noting the extraordinarily high number of book and music stores – and if the word 'bank' on several buildings wasn't misleading, Muggles actually had more establishments to do business at than just Gringotts!

 

   A row of windows running the length of one corner building, each stacked with colourful books, caught his attention. "What's that, Potter?"

 

   "That's [Foyles](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/13foyles_zps7e250f55.jpg)," Harry smiled. "One of the most famous stores in London; they sell books on five whole floors, _and_ they even have a café in there." He indicated a similar, somewhat smaller store almost directly across the street. "These days, they have real competition from several large chains like that one over there, but in our parents' time Foyles claimed to be, by accumulated length of shelf space, to be the biggest bookstore in the world."

 

   Draco nodded, suppressing the urge to go and browse for the rest of the day. He wasn't a compulsive researcher like Granger, but he did love to read … and he could do with some new material.

 

   _It's not too far from the Leaky Cauldron; I can always come back another day._

0_0

Potter was just about to steer him to the left at an enormous crossroads when a building on the opposite corner caught Draco's eye. There was a [gilded statue of a man in a rather aggressive pose](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/14dominion_zpsf5733c68.jpg) over the entryway, one arm stretched to the heaven with what looked like a stunted wand, and the word 'Dominion' behind.

 

   Draco stopped dead in his tracks. Since the War, he'd made a concerted effort to find out the truth about Muggles, to separate facts from fiction, but what he was seeing right now seemed to come straight from the depths of Death Eater propaganda. He made a grab for Potter's arm, jerking him to a halt.

 

   "You said Muggles don't do that!"

 

   "Huh? Don't do what?" Gingerly, Harry retrieved his arm from the frantic, nearly painful grip.

 

   "That!" Deeply disturbed, Draco pointed towards the statue and the garish black-and-yellow poster, bearing the legend 'We Will Rock You'. All the horror stories he'd heard as a child, about how Muggles were always out to destroy Wizardkind, were rushing back to the forefront of his mind. Harry shrugged uncomprehendingly, seeing nothing unusual.

 

   "They're stoning Wizards there, aren't they," Draco whispered. "I wouldn't have believed they advertise it like that … is it legal?"

 

   Suddenly, Harry got it and fought down a bark of laughter. "Relax, Malfoy. Nobody gets stoned by Muggles anymore – well, at least not in Britain; I think it may still be a legal punishment in some African, or maybe Oriental countries. The 'Dominion' is just a theatre, and they're playing a musical."

 

   _Oh. That's okay, then._ Draco relaxed visibly, then frowned at the unfamiliar term. "A what?"

 

    "Erm … it's like a play, only with songs. Which are actually integrated into the plot," Potter explained, fumbling a bit. "There are lots of them playing all year round in the West End – the theatre district here in London. This particular production is based on the music of just one band, like the Wyrd Sisters. 'We Will Rock You' is the title, derived from one of the band's song."

 

   "Who'd write songs about stoning someone?" Malfoy asked indignantly. This time, Harry _did_ chuckle.

 

   "It's an American expression; to rock someone means shake someone up, change their views, their perspective, that sort of thing – not literally throwing rocks at them."

 

   "Oh." Blushing at his misconception, Draco glanced aside, only to look back up when Potter didn't laugh at or ridicule him, but continued with his explanation as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "The story is pretty silly and contrived, but the music is quite good. I can get us tickets one day, if you like," he said simply. When Draco gave a bemused nod – had Potter just offered, in a very roundabout way, to take him on a date? – he received a wink and a smile in return while being gently steered around the corner onto an even busier street lined on both sides with shop after shop. Despite it being only mid-morning, the street already [teemed with people and cars](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/15oxfordst_zps9ee8273b.jpg). Red double-decker buses reminded Draco of the Knight Bus, only they seemed to lack beds or armchairs … and when he turned his attention towards the storefronts, he was overwhelmed by the variety of products for sale.  Naturally, there were no cauldrons or wand shops, nor Quidditch equipment, but it wasn't hard to identify clothiers, shoemakers and the like. The rest, he had no idea about, and when he caught sight of a purplish logo advertising 'Virgin Megastore', he shuddered inwardly.

 

   _I don't think I want to know what they're selling there …_

Rather overwhelmed, he turned towards his companion who was watching him with a slight smile.

 

   "Merlin, Potter – what _is_ this place?!?"

 

   "Welcome to Oxford Street," Harry just said. "Arguably, London's busiest shopping street. Think Diagon Alley, only bigger, louder …"

 

   "… and full of Muggles," Draco murmured, letting himself be guided along.

 

   "Well, yes, there's that," Harry agreed with a wink. "Come on, you- er, _we_ can have a look 'round while we walk. The shop I had in mind is about ten minutes up that way."  

 

0_0

 

   _Really not so different from Diagon Alley_ , Draco mused some time later. People went in and out of shops, buying or just browsing, mothers dragged bored youngsters behind them, teenagers stood and gawked at displays. Very much the same … and yet all new to him, and different somehow. A myriad of questions were begging to be asked as they passed storefront after storefront. It was all he could do not to goggle and gape, but before he could voice more than a few inquiries, Potter interrupted him.

 

   "Not now. We can take a lunch break later, and I'll tell you everything you want to know as far as I'm able, I promise. Right now, we're here to get you fitted out; let's leave the other stuff for later, okay?"

 

   Reluctantly Draco had to admit that the middle of a very busy street was hardly the right place to indulge his curiosity, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Potter only laughed when he heard Draco's sulky grumbling as they resumed their trek up the street.  He still allowed Draco plenty of time and opportunities to get his bearings – and window-shop – until they reached a large building with a long stretch of display windows. Potter called it a 'department store' and assured Draco he'd be able to buy everything he might need within.

 

   Feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sheer size and all the hustle and bustle, never mind all the merchandise on display, Draco still managed to acquire shoes, underwear and a pair of stylish black slacks once they'd determined the correct sizes. Choosing a jacket to complete his outfit, however, proved more difficult – much to Draco's disgust, the only one that came even close to his standards in fit and quality was [solely available in Gryffindor red](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/16gryffindorred_zps647ca143.jpg).

 

   "This looks stupid," he grumbled as he nevertheless deftly knotted the black-on-black-patterned tie under the collar of a black shirt.

 

   "No, it doesn't," Potter sighed. "Strangely enough, the colour suits you." He shrugged in response to the raised eyebrow. "In a weird, possibly change-the-natural-world-order way, of course."

 

   Draco smirked briefly at the not-quite compliment. "What I _meant_ , Potter, was that one simply does not wear jewel tones in spring. Now feed me, and then take me someplace where I can buy clothes that are … more my style, if you catch my meaning."

 

   Grabbing a firm hold on his patience, telling himself that, all things considered, this shopping trip hadn't been _too_ bad so far, Harry just rolled his eyes and guided Malfoy back out. A brisk walk brought them to Marble Arch within fifteen minutes, and Harry turned into a small side street. A corner building a few metres ahead  turned out to be an Indian  restaurant, albeit with a French name.

 

   "I hope you like Indian," Harry murmured as he held open the door for Draco.

 

   "I wouldn't know, I never had it. Father believed having Italian food instead of French or traditional English was being adventurous, so I was never exposed to Eastern cuisine," Draco replied quietly while looking around with a great deal of curiosity. The air was filled with the scent of exotic spices, yet kept fresh by a small artificial stream and large, rotating fans under the high ceiling. Wicker furniture and greenery abounded, the linen was immaculate, and from what he could see, the service was quiet, efficient and unobtrusive. They were seated at a small table with an excellent view over the restaurant and the waiter hurried off to fill their drinks order.  "But if the food matches the ambience, I'm looking forward to trying."

 

   "In that case, let's have the buffet."

 

**04.**

Well over an hour later, replete with exotic food that Draco thought he could easily get used to eating more often and some excellent tea, Harry led Draco back to Marble Arch.

 

   "Okay, next lesson for you," he announced cheerfully. "A trip on the Tube – unless you'd prefer to walk nearly an hour to the next store?"

 

   Draco would've rather died than admit that the new dress shoes he'd bought at the first department store were pinching his toes. But Harry had promised to take him to a more upscale shop next after he'd complained about the quality and selections he'd seen so far, and if this venue was really that far away …

 

   Malfoy pride fought a brief battle with Slytherin pragmatism, and lost.

 

   "Oh, very well," he grumbled, and followed the disgustingly cheerful Auror down a flight of steps, into what he soon learned was an 'Underground Station'.

 

   Half an hour later, after changing trains twice, the two emerged back into daylight. A short walk brought them to [an imposing building](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/17harrods_zps8c3ecdfe.jpg) that looked as if all of Diagon Alley might fit comfortably into its ground floor. Draco tried to orient himself, but soon gave it up as a lost cause and just followed Potter until they reached an area that was clearly dedicated to men's fashion.

 

   Even to someone unused to Muggle stores like Draco could see that this establishment was a cut above the ones they'd visited before, and that it was much better suited to a Malfoy. He allowed himself a small, pleased smile as he relaxed. "Now that's more like it, Potter," Draco murmured, looking around appreciatively. "Where do we start?"

 

   Potter just grinned and pushed him towards a chair next to a display table stacked with lightweight cashmere jumpers. "Why don't you take a seat and I'll find a sales clerk?"

 

   "You do that," Draco said, already distracted by the various mannequins. He ignored the seat and wandered off, comparing styles, touching fabrics here, fingering buttons there. Soon, though, he was yanked out of his happy daze.

 

0_0

 

   "Malfoy? Hey, Malfoy!"

 

   "Hmm?"

 

   Potter rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Come on, I want you to meet someone." He steered him away from the rack of colorful silk ties he'd been admiring, towards a young woman who was watching him with badly-concealed amusement. She was soberly and neutrally dressed, and wore a name tag like a brooch on her blouse. "This is Gemma Carr," Potter introduced her, then stepped up close to Draco. "Now – Gemma's a Personal Shopper-in-training," he murmured. "She can help us make this much quicker than we could do on our own."

 

  "In training?" Draco queried skeptically. His inner snob balked at having to deal with someone who wasn't fully qualified yet, but he was honest enough to admit that even this half-trained girl was more knowledgeable about Muggle clothes than he was.

 

   "She's helped me out in the past, too," Harry said. "We're actually lucky that Gemma's even at work today."

 

   "Let me assure you – Mr Malfoy, is it? – that I am quite qualified to sell menswear. I have been training to move up into the Personal Shopper service since Mr Potter here very graciously accepted my help some five years ago."

 

   Draco mulled the explanation over in his mind. _If she's really helped Potter develop what style he has, she clearly knows what she's doing. But his style is hardly mine; can she do the same for me?_

 

   "What exactly does a Personal Shopper do?"

 

   "Basically, I'll bring the merchandise to you instead of you having to visit all the various departments," Miss Carr explained. "All you have to do is describe the general style of outfit you want to me; it'll be my pleasure to bring you a selection in the correct size, plus all the accessories you might need – from shoes to cufflinks."

 

   That actually sounded a lot like how he was used to doing his shopping at Twilfitt and Tatting's. And definitely more pleasant than traipsing all over this enormous building.

 

 

   "And all I'd have to do is sit here?" Draco asked, not at all averse to the suggestion. His feet still hurt, and he was feeling just a tad overwhelmed by the variety of choices available.

 

   "I can do even better than that," Gemma smiled. "As it happens, an appointment fell through today, and if you think you can be finished within the next two hours, I can offer you the use of the Lower Ground Floor suite."

_Better and better!_ Then Draco's shopaholic instincts started to gibber in protest.

 

   "Two hours only? But I need a full wardrobe!"

 

   "Unfortunately, the alternative would be for you to do your own shopping today, or you'd have to make an appointment with one of my colleagues," she said apologetically. "And I know they're all booked until the end of the month."

 

   "Why not get just the basics today, and make your own appointment for a later date," Potter, ever the pragmatist, suggested. "Gemma would be doing us a favour, after all."

 

   "I suppose that'd work," Draco reluctantly agreed.  "Oh, all right. Very well then."

 

   "Thank you, sir," she beamed. "If you'll follow me, gentlemen?"

 

   Miss Carr led them past a magnificent, Egyptian-styled array of lifts until they reached a [comfortably-furnished lounge area](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/18harrods_zps3c44e401.jpg) that was equipped with everything from full-surround mirrors to a well-stocked drinks cabinet. She then called a tailor to take Draco's measurements, jotted them down on a notepad along with his requirements, and went off, leaving the two young men to enjoy a perfect cup of tea and a plate full of biscuits to nibble on.

 

   "Now this is more like it," Draco sighed contentedly as he sipped his Earl Grey. "I could almost get used to Muggle shopping like this."

 

   "Thought you might," Harry chuckled, leaning back with his own freshly-brewed coffee. "When I first started taking an interest in what I wore beyond that it fit and was comfortable, I had no idea such a thing as a Personal Shopper even existed. I only came here to Harrods because Hermione suggested I'd have the widest range of choices available. Gemma was the first sales clerk I happened to speak to, and I really lucked out with her once she twigged to the fact that I had no idea what I needed, or what fashion was all about.  She'll do a good job for you, too."

 

   "I certainly hope so. How difficult can it be to pick a light and a dark suit with a few matching shirts, after all?"

 

   "That all depends on whether you want casual or formal, dressed up or down, which designer, one designer for everything or rather mix-and-match …" Harry laughed at the slightly panicked expression stealing over Malfoy's features at the growing list. "Don't worry, you'll get it in time. Just have fun for now!"

 

0_0

 

   And fun it was, much to Draco's surprise. He had a very clear idea of what suited him, for which purpose he needed to dress, and with expert advice he soon was able to make his choices. Lucky for him, his build fit most styles very well, and the few minimal alterations could be done by the in-house service as soon as they were done. Noticing that Potter paid very close attention to how he looked in every outfit was an unexpected fringe benefit that heightened his enjoyment even more … and caused Draco to base his choices increasingly on the Auror's disapproving frowns or admiring smiles. At last, [a charcoal-grey suit](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/19powertie_zps1a097056.jpg) made by a well-known Italian designer (or so both Potter and Miss Carr assured him) was already set aside, with a classic white shirt, black shoes and striped 'power tie', as Potter laughingly called the accessory.  

 

 

   The definite highlight of the day, however, came when he was trying to choose a shirt to go with a formal, silver-grey three-piece suit and Potter emphatically lobbied for pastel-coloured shirts with matching ties.

 

   "I know it's customary to match [light grey with white and blue](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/20greyamppastel_zpsb45aa178.jpg), but that's so bland and really rather boring – and you're anything but."      

 

      _Well, that's certainly kind of flattering. If he's not putting me on._

 

   "Honestly, Potter – _pastels_? With _my_ skin and hair?"

 

   "Just trust me on this," Potter murmured, touching the back of Draco's hand in a surprisingly intimate gesture, for all its brevity and innocence. "Please?"

 

   How could Draco refuse? Especially when those green eyes looked at him so beseechingly and a not-unwelcome flutter stirred in his stomach? "Oh, all right," he capitulated with a sigh. "But only as long as I'm not going to look as if an ice-cream parlour exploded on me!"

 

   "I'll make sure it won't," Miss Carr promised, and soon returned with a selection of shirts in very light shades of pink, blue, yellow, lavender and green.  Very dubious, Draco disappeared in one of the changing cubicles and shrugged into the fine cotton – as it happened, in palest  pink. When he returned to the main lounge area and the full mirror, the young woman was waiting with an armful of silk ties, all very subtly patterned and coordinated with the assortment of shirts she'd brought. Before she could even choose a match and hand it to Draco, Harry had already picked one and looped the strip of silk around Draco's collar himself, then proceeded to tie a classic Windsor knot with deft fingers.

 

   "You look good enough to eat," he whispered, letting his hands linger on the starched collar. "Like my favourite petits-four." It was hardly the first time that he'd touched Draco during the day, but those touches had all been very casual – smoothing out a crease here, twitching a collar into place there, or brushing off a speck of dust that nobody else saw. Draco's mouth went dry as he heard the husky words – and the heated glance accompanying them.

 

   _Maybe all that touching wasn't meant to be casual at all?_ The unbidden thought was equal parts thrilling and unsettling. 

 

   "I do?" Those two syllables emerged much breathier than Draco had intended, but he couldn't regret it when they made the famous green eyes deepen to an almost emerald hue.

 

  "Uh huh." If anything, the heat in Harry's gaze was rising. Now that Draco thought back on it, the same thing had been happening all day … and somehow, he'd always ended up buying the item that provoked the reaction.

 

 "A-are you thinking of anything in particular?" Draco asked, wrapping suddenly-shaky fingers loosely around the strong wrists. If he concentrated – a somewhat difficult thing to do under the circumstances – he could feel Potter's pulse under his fingertips … hard and heavy, and surely faster than was normal.

 

   "Hell, yes. There's this little tea shop in Poole which sells homemade [petits-four](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/37petitsfour_zpscfd860c1.jpg) to die for. I'll feed some to you soon," Harry promised before stepping back reluctantly to allow Draco to turn and look at his reflection, but stayed hovering right behind his shoulder. Draco quickly shrugged into the suit jacket and closed the buttons to get the full effect.

 

   _Oh, yes._

 

   He couldn't help but admire the contrast they presented – black-haired, tanned Harry, casually elegant in his black leather blazer, and he himself, platinum blond, pale-skinned and clad in lightest grey. To his surprise, the faintly bluish shade of pink Harry had chosen for him didn't make him look washed out; rather, it highlighted the faint blush of his lips and on his cheekbones, and gave his hair a gilt rather than silvery sheen.

 

   "Not bad," Draco judged at last, in a vast understatement. "Not bad at all."

 

   "Told you you could trust me," Harry murmured, smoothing a non-existent crease out of the fine wool so perfectly encasing the slender shoulders. "You gonna buy this?"

 

   "Yes," Draco decided. Their two hours were almost up anyway, and he felt reasonably confident that he could set up a proper appointment with the surprisingly talented Miss Carr by himself at some future date. Provided Potter told him about a faster, more convenient way to get here from Diagon Alley – he'd had to admit reluctantly that the shopping facilities were just too crowded at any one time to Apparate safely.

 

   They made a quick detour to the in-house Burberry store to buy a coat and [trolley suitcase](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/21burberryluggage_zps48e884e6.jpg), had all their purchases packed neatly into the latter and finally left the store with a promise to have the items needing alterations delivered to 12 Grimmauld Place as soon as possible. The Transfigured messenger bag had long been shrunk and was discreetly transferred from Draco's pocket to the luggage once they were back on the street.

 

   "You don't fancy walking back, do you?" Harry asked after taking a deep breath of the crisp late-afternoon air.

 

   "No thanks. And to be honest, I really wouldn't like to go back on the underground train, either. It smells, and is obnoxiously loud."

 

   Harry grinned. "True, but on the whole it's the fastest way to get around town. But given that rush hour is about to start, I'd like to avoid it myself if possible." He rubbed the back of his neck contemplatively as one of the ubiquitous red buses sailed past them. "Unfortunately, it's the same for the buses – the whole of London Transport is bound to be crowded for the next couple of hours at least."

 

   "Are you sure we can't find a quiet spot to Apparate from?" Draco muttered, just a hint of petulant whinge in his voice. "I've had about enough Muggle culture for the day."

 

   Just then, a boxy-looking, [high-roofed car](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/22londoncab_zpscdaea47c.jpg) stopped at the curb a few metres away to disgorge a family of four. It was painted black and had a yellow, backlit sign on top of the front window that Draco couldn't decipher, everything was happening so fast. Harry grabbed Malfoy's arm, all but dragging him towards the car. "There's just one more thing I'm going to show you," he said with fresh enthusiasm. "And I can promise you'll like it!" With that, he unceremoniously handed the new suitcase to the driver and bundled Draco inside the cab.

 

   "Potter, what –!" Draco yelped as he fell into the seat.

 

   "Just shut up, Malfoy," Harry chuckled, settling in right beside him. "It may take a little longer because of the traffic, but it's the most comfortable way to travel you can find. Grimmauld Place, please," he told the cabbie and closed the glass partition. "Now, sit back and enjoy the ride!"

 

**05.**

Wards tingled across Draco's skin as they entered 12 Grimmauld Place – [the old Black town house](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/23GrimmauldPlace_zps6cbb31ab.jpg), Draco remembered, and now Harry's. He hardly had time to analyse them, but assumed they were the standard set: burglar-repelling, camouflage, privacy. As an afterthought, he amended that initial assessment; given Potter's status, the wards were probably far more comprehensive and stronger, especially since the house was obviously no longer Unplottable.  

 

   _I'll have to look into that if and when I ever decide to get a place of my own in the city outside of Diagon._

Wards and the casting thereof quickly sank to the back of his mind when Potter showed him where in the hallway to park his brand-new suitcase and ushered him into a parlour, lighting several lamps with a wandless spell. Draco received a fleeting impression of original features blending with more modern furniture to a rather pleasant if uninspired whole – the man clearly was in need of some pieces from NaDrAn MTB Fine Furniture – but didn't get a chance for a closer inspection. Because once they'd closed the door behind them, Potter all but pounced on him, pinning Draco against the back of a free-standing couch and closed both hands around his neck.

 

   "Potter? What –" Draco's surprised gasp was cut off when those hard, capable fingers  made short work of his tie and the first three buttons of the black shirt he'd donned again for the way home. Then Potter slid his fingers back around to his neck while his thumbs slowly stroked up and down Draco's throat.

 

   Draco sagged a little with relief. "Salazar's balls, warn a bloke, won't you? For a moment there, I thought you were going to strangle me!"

 

   "Don't think I haven't been tempted," Potter grinned wryly. "Do you have any idea how much I _hate_ shopping? If I hadn't promised …" The left thumb was now gliding along Draco's jawline while the right wandered up, brushing across his lips. "I've wanted to do this all day," Potter confessed, "Every time you tried on a different colour shirt, or fiddled with your collar."

 

   "Why didn't you say something, then?" Draco murmured, pleasantly distracted. "We could've stopped after the first store."

 

   "And listen to you whinge and complain all day long afterwards? Not in this lifetime," Harry said.

 

   "I don't whinge!"

 

   The grin widened. "Yes, you do. Spoiled brat," he teased. "Now shut up and let me get my reward." With that, he pressed even closer against Draco so that they were standing hip to hip.

 

   "I am _not_ spoiled," Draco insisted, sending an indignant glare at his assailant. "I am a Malfoy; as such, I am merely used to always having the best. In everything." _And from now on, if tonight goes the way I want it, that includes you, Potty-boy!_  

 

     "Right. My mistake," Potter – no, Harry – murmured sarcastically. Draco would've agreed wholeheartedly had Harry not chosen that very moment to gently press Draco down until his backside was perched against the couch's back rest. A bit of shifting and shuffling, and Harry was standing between Draco's legs, letting him feel his growing erection. "Moving on … this is what you do to me."

 

   "Good." With a shuddering breath, Draco arched against him, his own cock hardening. "It's mutual."

 

0_0

 

    "Good," Harry echoed, tilting Draco's head back. In their current position, Harry stood slightly taller than him, but Draco didn't mind at all; instead, he slid his arms into the black leather blazer, curving around the slender waist.

 

   "Now that we've established the obvious, care to do anything about it, Potter?" Draco attempted his customary sneer, but spoiled the effect by emitting a pleased moan when he succeeded in untucking Harry's shirt in back and his hand encountered warm, smooth skin.

 

   "Good things come to those that wait, Malfoy," Harry replied, but his wolfish smile belied his cautionary words as he in turn proceeded to unbutton Draco's shirt. "Have a little patience."

 

   "I'd rather have you," Draco murmured, too busy exploring Harry's back with both hands now. "Whoever said patience's a virtue was an idiot." He paused briefly. "Or a Hufflepuff."

 

   That startled a laugh out of Harry. "God, you're impossible," he chuckled, [trailing his fingers along the partially-opened buttons on Draco's shirt](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/24Dracoundressing_zpsfddda494.jpg). Draco shivered deliciously at the positively hungry look in Harry's eyes as he slowly bared his chest.

 

   "I know; it's an art," Draco smirked, sending a coy glance up into the intent face hovering so close to his own. He thought he might get kissed next, but found himself disappointed; he was surprised to read some hesitance in Harry's expression. Sighing, he moved one hand away from the sleek muscles he was caressing under black leather and fine cotton to cup Harry's cheek. _At least he hasn't let go of me yet!_

 

   "Don't stop now," he murmured with what he hoped was a reassuring smile rather than impatience.

 

   "Are you sure?" Harry asked hoarsely, holding back with an effort.

 

   "Of course. Why?"

 

   "Because if we don't, I'll have you naked and under me faster than you could say 'shopping trip'," Harry admitted. His hips gave an involuntary little lurch, rubbing his throbbing cock against Draco's.

 

   Draco just gave him an arch look even as he widened his stance for a better fit. Surely not even a former Gryffindork could misread this as anything other than an open invitation? "Yes. Your point?"

 

   Harry gulped. "Y-you'd want me to?"

 

   Apparently, disgustingly noble and heroic Gryffindors could. With a pout, Draco shoved Harry a step backwards so he could stand up from his perch. "Must I spell it out for you, Potter? I want you. You just admitted to wanting me back. What's stopping us from doing something about it already?"

 

    " … Nothing I can think of at the moment," Harry conceded, blushing. "Although I'm sure that'll change by morning." 

 

   Draco grinned, refusing to admit even within the depths of his mind that he found this unexpected display of shyness really rather cute and adorable. "Do I take that to mean that you're inviting me to stay the night?"

 

  The prospect was both exciting as well as mildly terrifying. "At the least I'm inviting you to my bed," Harry muttered. "As for staying the night … I, erm, I don't think you'd get much sleep if you did. And. Well. I mean, I'm rather used to staying awake and alert for a whole night, with stakeouts and such. Are you?"

 

   _When I'll be sharing a bed with you?_ _Oh, you have no idea!_ Draco nipped teasingly at a handy earlobe. "Doubting my stamina, Potter?"

 

   "I'll reserve judgment on that until I've made further investigations," Harry breathed against the smooth skin of Draco's throat.

 

   That earned him a sultry smile. "Good answer. Shall we investigate now?"

 

   "If you're sure."

 

  Draco rolled his eyes. _Stupid, stubborn, gorgeous Gryffindor!_  "No, I'm just trying to seduce you for nefarious purposes. Of course I'm sure – what do you want, a written Declaration of Intent? My Wizard's Oath? An Unbreakable Vow?"

 

   "No."

 

   "Then what, in Merlin's name, are we waiting for?" Draco huffed. He only succeeded in making Harry laugh as he deepened their embrace.

 

    "You are _such_ a Drama Queen. Okay. Hold on." And before Draco could do more than open his mouth to sputter in protest, Harry Apparated them both upstairs into his bedroom.  

 

   Once there, all traces of hilarity fled; they knew that they were about to irrevocably change the nature of their relationship. No longer rivals or enemies, they were not yet friends, but about to become lovers. It was enough to render both momentarily mute, except for soft, inarticulate sounds of appreciation and encouragement as they undressed each other slowly.  Their clothes fell where they would as each item was removed; all that mattered was to feel skin against skin and make use of Harry's [wide, inviting bed](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/26harrysbedroom_zps5065741c.jpg). They lay down side by side, letting only their eyes roam at first until Harry lost patience and pushed Draco over on his back.

 

   "If you ask me one more time whether I'm sure of this, or ready, I'll hex you," Draco whispered, relaxing onto the mattress.

 

_Mmm. Just right – soft enough for comfort, yet firm enough for … everything else!_

   "Understood. No need to get violent," Harry laughed softly, breathlessly, and scooted closer; he felt the hot skin touch his own and reached out to run his hand across the well-defined pecs, teasing the pink nipples into aching hardness. Draco lay back and gave himself over to the caress; his body felt as if he would explode any minute. Concentrating on the feel of the strong fingers exploring his torso, he moved slightly towards Harry, nuzzling into his throat. Unexpectedly, though, his chin was tilted up and a warm, moist mouth closed over his lips. Startled, his eyes popped open and he stiffened.

 

   Harry drew back and looked at him with a quizzical expression.

 

   "What? You don't kiss during sex?"

 

   "I … yes, of course." Truth be told, Draco hadn't ever cared one way or another; for him, kissing had always merely been a prelude to sex. A means to an end, really, nothing more. With Harry, though … it seemed as if it could feel different. A _lot_ different.

 

   "Mmn. Good."

 

   The warmth returned. Draco let his eyes drift closed again and felt a wet tongue tip tracing the seam of his lips. Opening up, he let Harry slip inside his mouth, and their tongues began to duel languidly. But while the kiss was undemanding, Harry's hand was not. Unerringly, it moved south, brushing Draco's abdomen, his thighs, the edges of his pubic hair, but never touching where Draco suddenly, desperately, wanted to be touched. Squirming on the bed, he tried to move his straining cock into contact with Harry's roving fingers; he almost dislodged the skillful mouth in the process, but the Auror would have none of it. Using his greater skill and strength, he held Draco down, kissing him harder. Finally, Draco relented, and freed his hands to respond in kind. He closed them around the broad shoulders and began to reciprocate Harry's kiss in earnest. Soon, they were devouring each other's mouths with increasing hunger until there was not even room to pass a sheet of parchment between their closely-entwined bodies. It was exhilarating, and Harry finally had to tear his mouth away from his lover's to gulp in great gusts of air. Both young men were panting with need, and Draco's eyes were burning like molten silver. Harry shifted, aligning their groins. Draco moaned deeply as his pulsing cock slid along Harry's equally-demanding length, the sound almost enough to send Harry over the edge. He quickly worked a hand between them and sought out the satiny smoothness. All it took were a few practiced strokes, and Draco fell back with a shudder, offering himself to his touch.

 

0_0

 

   Harry cheered inwardly as he sensed Draco's capitulation and finally allowed all of his impulses free rein. Abandoning the hard prick for a moment, he ran his hands all over Draco's body, one moment gently teasing the sensitive nipples, the next exploring the tight arse and playing with the swollen balls, rolling them expertly between his fingers. He plundered the willing mouth with his tongue once more, then moved lower. Never stopping to caress whichever part of the slim body he could reach, he let his lips wander where they would: first to Draco's ears and neck, then down the heaving chest and beyond, coming closer and closer to the juncture of Draco's thighs until his chin bumped the hot flesh just waiting for exploration. A drop of pre-cum was oozing from the tip, and Harry didn't hesitate to lap it up. Draco groaned deep in his chest, arching upward, trying to get even closer to the tantalizing wetness.

 

   But, not yet.

 

   Harry sat up, and Draco almost screamed with disappointment as all those wonderful touches suddenly stopped. Gasping for air, he opened heavy-lidded eyes and looked at his companion. What he saw nearly made him come there and then. Harry was kneeling before him, his tanned skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat that made all those lovely, sleek muscles stand out in relief. He kept one hand still lightly wrapped around Draco's cock, just enough to reassure, but definitely not enough for Draco's needs. Before Draco could beg him to continue, though, Harry released him completely and grinned at him predatorily.

 

   "Spread your legs."

   

   Harry's voice had deepened with arousal; Draco shivered at the sound and complied, letting his thighs fall open on either side of his lover's body. He was fully exposed to the heated gaze and demanding hands, but Draco couldn't care less; this was the only place he wanted to be right now. Harry lifted Draco's hips and moved forward until he was supporting the firm bottom on his own thighs, then reached for his wand. A murmured spell coated his palm with slick oil which he then began to work between Draco's arse cheeks, causing him to moan with delight. At last Draco felt a finger press against his sphincter. He tensed, even though he'd expected it.

 

   "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

 

   Draco gave him a hazy smile. "I know. It's just been a while for me."

 

   Harry smiled, pleased by the small confession. "I'll be careful."

 

  "Mmn."

 

   The finger began moving in slow circles. Consciously unclenching his muscles, Draco felt a slightly slippery fingertip penetrate past the tight ring of muscle eventually, causing some mild discomfort but no pain. At the same time, Harry leaned forward and hovered over Draco's straining cock. Hot/cold air blew across the fevered flesh as Harry alternately licked from base to tip and praised his soon-to-be lover.

 

   "You're so hot and tight; I can't wait to fuck you! But first, I'm going to open that tight hole of yours while I suck your cock. You'll like that, won't you?"

 

   Draco had neither expected Harry's evident expertise nor his capacity for dirty talk. Bereft of speech with arousal, he could only moan and nod, his eyes fastened on Harry's green ones. The other young man smiled ferally.

 

   "Good. Then, when you're good and ready, I'll stick my prick into you, moving in and out until you take all of me. I'll give you the best fuck you've ever had, and then, when I'm done with you, you're going to do the same to me. How does that sound?"

 

   By now, the probing finger was deep in Draco's arse; he could feel the sliding motion with every fiber of his body. His cock screamed for release, and at this point Draco was more than willing to agree to anything his partner suggested. The images Harry's words evoked were just too powerful, and Draco closed his eyes again, hissing his assent. "Yesss! Just … just do it! Please!"

 

   The slender hips were moving now to meet the thrusting of Harry's hand; he worked another finger into the tight opening, and finally lowered his mouth to the feast before him. Steadying the blood-filled organ with his free hand, he licked the length a few times, until he closed his lips around the smooth crown. Letting his tongue play around the ridge for a few moments, Harry then settled down to some serious sucking. His fingers continued to work Draco's arse, brushing against the nub of Draco's prostate as often as he could until he felt the tightening of muscles that announced imminent orgasm. Draco's hips thrust in time with his sucking, and suddenly a flood of hot come filled Harry's mouth as Draco screamed his release.

 

0_0

 

   Draco collapsed back onto the bed, utterly spent. After a few moments though, when he began to regain his senses, he realized that Harry's lips might still be wrapped around his shaft, but he _hadn't_ felt Harry swallow yet. Making an effort to drag his eyes open, Draco watched in wonder as Harry gave him a wink, slid his sperm-filled mouth off the still-hard cock at last, withdrew his hand and bent forward.

 

    Breathing through his nose, Harry then parted the trembling thighs as much as possible, lifted Draco's hips and delved for the puckered opening. Letting the warm fluid run out slowly, he worked as much as he could into Draco's arse with his tongue. Then he sat up again, pulled the former Slytherin into the right position, spreading the firm cheeks until the tip of his cock was poised right at Draco's center. He spelled some more lube into his hand, wandlessly this time, and spread it haphazardly onto his cock. His breath was coming in sharp gasps as he primed himself with a few practiced strokes; then Harry pressed gently against the tight orifice until the sphincter muscle gave way. With this first thrust, he managed to slide about a third of his length into the tightest arse it had ever been his pleasure to fuck.

 

  "Merlin, you're tight!"

 

   It was all Harry could do to go slowly; every instinct screamed at him to start pumping in and out of that incredible hole.

 

   He was going to love fucking Draco! Provided he got another chance after tonight, that was. But that was something better left to the morning; for now, he had some buggering to do. Harry forced himself to move carefully, to use only tiny little thrusts, gaining ground with every push, then moving back again until his cock was buried more than halfway in the hot channel. He then altered his rhythm, twisting his hips in small circles, all the while pushing deeper and deeper.

 

   Draco felt as if he would faint any moment; he'd never imagined being fucked by Harry would be so good! The burning sensation where the hot cock speared deep into him sent flames to all other parts of his body, and every time the smooth rod hit his sweet spot nearly made him forget all of his former lovers, it felt _that_ incredible.

 

   Then Harry stilled.

 

   Draco tried to get enough air into his lungs, but found himself still unable to speak; so he settled for opening his eyes just enough to glare incredulously at his lover. Here he was, on his back, his arse full of Potter dick, completely exposed to Harry's hungry eyes while his own twitching cock and tightly-drawn balls were just _begging_ to be touched, and the prat _dared_ to stop?!? Inconceivable!

 

   Harry didn't need Legilimency to be able to read Draco's mind. Holding himself still with an effort, he tried to communicate without words that Draco had nothing to worry about, that Harry would take care of him. He just needed to regain a modicum of control.

 

   So Harry ran his hands once more across Draco's chest as far as he could reach, tweaking the pink nipples into further hardness. He desperately wanted to thrust his tongue into the gasping mouth, but the position he had Draco in was just too delightful. He kept it up as long as he could before even the forced stillness became too much and Harry just _had_ to move. He closed one hand around the long, hard pole, and lifted the swollen bollocks with the other, to roll them around in their tight sac. Draco's eyes glazed over once more, but never left Harry's face as he began to move with Harry's strokes. Every time Draco arched into the skilled hand, the hot shaft buried deep in his arse slid in and out, causing the most incredible friction and sending shockwaves of pleasure into both young men. Soon, they found a steady, hard rhythm and abandoned themselves to their feelings. Sweat glistened on their heaving chests, making their flesh slippery; Harry's hands moved faster, and all too soon, it became too much for the already over-stimulated blond. With a strangled shout, he crested the wave of his orgasm, and had to grip the covers hard as he gave up a second load of sperm. His cock spurted for a long time, milky come covering Harry's hand, spilling over his fingers and onto his abdomen.

 

   Draco couldn't remember coming this hard, this fast _twice_ in such a short time – not even when he'd just discovered the joys of wanking as a young teen.

 

   When the final spasms subsided at last and Draco fell back onto the bed, Harry let go of the softening genitals, lifted the long legs over his shoulders and braced himself. He began slowly at first, but gained speed with every thrust, pistoning deeper and harder into the tight arse as he strove desperately for his own release. His groin slapped against the hard buns, his own breathing became labored, and at last he could feel the clenching of muscles which sent him over the edge into orgasmic bliss. Bellowing out his release, Harry buried himself to the hilt one last time and spilled himself in the hot depths, then collapsed on his lover's still-heaving chest.

 

0_0

 

   For long moments, neither spoke as they tried to catch their breaths. Then Draco languidly raised his arms and closed them around Harry's shoulders. Exhausted slate-grey eyes met equally-tired green ones; they shared a pleased grin and their mouths met in a hard, all-consuming kiss.

 

   Coming up for air after what seemed like an eternity, Harry withdrew his spent cock and rolled weakly off his lover's body. Not quite cuddling, just sharing gentle touches as they recovered, they lay side by side until their bodies were cooled off. Then, Harry pushed himself up on one elbow and quirked a questioning eyebrow. "Well?"

 

   Despite himself, Draco blushed under that frankly appraising glance.  He had to clear his throat twice before he could produce the offhand tone he wanted. "Not bad for a first try."  

 

  "Didn't know I had it in me, huh?" Harry's smirk would have put any Slytherin to shame … including Draco himself.

 

   "Technically, you didn't – I did," Draco snarked, but with a smile lurking at the corner of his mouth

 

   Harry laughed out loud at that. Draco's superior, indifferent air didn't fool him at all – Draco had enjoyed every second as much as he had. He'd bet his Invisibility Cloak on it, even; _nobody_ , not even Snape,was that good an actor. Elatedly, he leaned over his partner and thrust his tongue into the pliant mouth. Draco submitted for a while, but eventually started taking control of the kiss.

 

_High time I showed you a thing or two!_

   He twined his own tongue around the moist invader, meeting every thrust. He licked at the tip, at the edges, sliding over the white teeth and almost slipping out altogether, only to circle the hot lips and delve inside again, causing Harry to clutch at his shoulders. Draco shifted around and rolled his lover over, never losing contact with the wet warmth. When their positions were reversed, he finally lifted his head.

 

   Both men were breathing hard once more, and to Draco's delighted surprise Harry's cock was already hard and straining against Draco's thigh.

 

   "What have we here?" he murmured, running a fingertip around the ridge just once. The thick shaft actually jerked. "Looks like someone's wand hasn't been wielded enough lately."

 

   "Or maybe it's just another instance of the wand choosing the wizard," Harry murmured back, a smile on his lips. "I don't remember this wand working so well for anyone else before."

 

   "Not even for the Wea- … a Witch?" Draco couldn't help asking.

 

   Harry reached up and brushed the blond fringe out of Draco's eyes, lingering a few seconds on the lean cheek. "I just told you. Not _anyone_."

 

   "Oh. Same here, actually," Draco mumbled, not meeting Harry's eyes until he'd regained his composure. "Think we could give both our wands another swish and flick?"

 

   Harry started to chuckle. "I'd say more of a twirl and thrust, but whatever works for you."

 

   "Either will do," Draco decided with a haughty sniff, then spoiled the effect when he couldn't help grinning at Harry's indulgent headshake and smile.

 

   So Draco pulled Harry close against himself with one arm and began to explore the hard body with his free hand. His eyes followed the contours of Harry's chest as his fingers explored the light dusting of hair on the smooth pectorals. He'd had lovers in the past who were more muscular, but Harry was certainly fit, and then some – seemed Auror training did as much for a man's physique as playing professional Quidditch. Shooting a quick glance into the green eyes, which were half-shielded by black lashes, he asked, almost perfunctorily, "Mind if I take a turn on top?"

 

   Harry would have snorted if he hadn't already been distracted by the sensation of long, strong fingers circling his nipples. Strange things, these fingers; they really ought to leave him more breath to speak. It was already an effort to give assent, not that he thought Draco needed it. After all, he'd long been known for being a scrupulously fair equal-opportunity bloke. "Um. Knock yourself out."

 

   Draco skimmed lower on Harry's chest, tracing the well-defined abs to Harry's hip bone. "No special requests?"

 

   Harry caught his breath as the back of Draco's fingers grazed his once more fully-engorged cock. He tried shifting so that he could thrust against that maddening hand, but Draco would have none of it. Instead, he bent over and initiated a heated kiss, twining his fingers in the short messy hair. Tongues dueled and licked, and despite having come twice already, Draco felt the first twinges of renewed interest in his lower anatomy. Lifting himself to lie half across the squirming body, he pinned Harry to the bed. Harry moaned helplessly into Draco's mouth. When their lips parted, Harry gasped as he became aware of their cockheads rubbing against each other.

 

   "Just … unh … oh yeah … do whatever you think feels good to you. Oohhh … it'll probably feel just as good … Merlin, yes! … to me …"

 

   His voice trailed off in a helpless, delighted groan as those really quite maddening fingers danced over his erection. Draco's grin broadened; time for Harry to get a taste of his own medicine! He released the broad shoulders and shifted downward on the bed, closer to Harry's crotch. Closing his hand around the thick length, he marveled at the satiny-smooth hardness, so like and yet so different from his own. Giving an experimental stroke, he was rewarded with an answering thrust.

 

   "You mean, something like this?"

 

   He slid his fingers up and down the straining shaft, then slipped lower to cup the loose sac with its covering of dark curls. Rolling the hard balls in his hand, he alternated between watching his lover's face and cataloguing every reaction for future reference. The smooth round head flared slightly, and a drop of clear liquid seeped out of the tiny slit. Draco leaned over and lapped it up with his tongue. At the contact, Harry jerked his hips sharply.

 

   "Oh, yes!"

 

   With the breathless encouragement, Draco smirked to himself, then licked leisurely once around the purplish head. Another deep, rumbling moan was his reward. Soon, Draco had covered the entire length of Harry's dick with broad licks. Returning once more to the hot tip, he sucked the oozing cap into his mouth and let his tongue swirl around to tickle with short stabs at the juncture of the ridge. Harry started to buck his hips in earnest. It may be only their first night together, but Merlin help them, they fit well!

 

   "That … that feels … too incredible!"

 

   Draco would have liked to answer that yes, of course it did, it was a Malfoy blowjob, after all, but another thrust filled his mouth completely with Harry's hot flesh. Shrugging mentally, consigning the bit of well-earned gloating to a later time, he settled himself more comfortably against Harry's hip and began some serious sucking. He concentrated solely on feeling the smooth hard prick gliding in and out of his mouth, licking and sucking as much as he was able. One hand steadied the hot staff at the base, the other continued to fondle Harry's balls. Lusty moans from his partner gave him all the encouragement he needed to continue. When finally his jaw began to ache, he tried to draw away, but a hand in his hair pressed him more firmly into Harry's groin. Harry's voice was barely comprehensible as he all but begged.

 

   "Don't … oh God … don't … uhhh … don't stop!"

 

   Draco had never cared overmuch about fair play, but acquiesced willingly enough; Harry would be that much more relaxed if he finished him off with his mouth first. So he accepted the harder, faster thrusts and let Harry fuck his mouth until Harry could no longer hold out. His balls tightened even more and Draco knew that he would come in mere moments.

 

   "Draco … oh Merlin … I'm … shite … I'm gonna come!"

 

   Draco just opened his mouth wider and flicked his tongue into the tiny hole on the bulbous cockhead, pressing hard. It was enough to trigger Harry's orgasm. With a shout that left him hoarse, he let go, and several hot spurts of semen hit the back of Draco's throat. He tried to swallow everything, but couldn't quite manage it. When Harry finally collapsed under him, he released the softening cock and began lapping up what had spilled over. Finished, he sat up and looked into Harry's sweaty face.

 

   "Well?"

 

   It was a perfect imitation of Harry's tone from earlier _._

 

   The Auror laughed weakly. "What do you want me to say?"

 

   "Oh, I don't know; maybe that I just gave you the best blowjob of your life? A _Sonorus_ on the front steps of Gringotts should do. Or at least lavish praise in sonnet form, on a full-page ad in the _Daily Prophet_."

 

   "In your dreams, Ferret," Harry chuckled, reaching up and pulling his lover into a tight embrace. Sliding his lips hotly over Draco's mouth, cheek and into his hair, he growled, "But if I have to tell you … yes, you did great. And no, I'm not going to tell; nobody but me needs to know!"

  

   Thrilled at the implied possessiveness, Draco gave Harry the obligatory sulky pout, but turned his head into the moist caress nevertheless. Their mouths met in a searing kiss, which stirred something a bit more southward. Harry tore away from their heated tongue-duel and looked down between their bodies, where his partner's cock by now had stretched out to full length -- again. Amazed, he met the silvery eyes, whose owner shrugged sheepishly but unrepentantly. It wasn't _his_ fault that he had a very healthy – and lately lamentably unfulfilled -- libido. Nor was he responsible for the sex appeal of the Auror Department's rising star.

 

   "What are you, the Energizer bunny?" Harry blurted.

 

    "I have no idea what that even is, but on general principle – most certainly not!" The mock-outraged tone and expression was delivered by Draco with practiced ease.

 

   Harry cracked up. "Muggle reference, never mind," he wheezed. "Think of … Peeves on Pepper-Up?"

 

   "Eww! That's disgusting, Potter!" He tried to act as offended as the suggestion deserved, but it was no use, Harry's uninhibited laughter was too infectious. Draco lost it as well.

 

   Arousal momentarily forgotten, they simply rolled around on the wide bed, laughing uproariously. From there, things devolved into an impromptu tickling/wrestling match, with more illegal holds than legitimate ones. Finally, it ended with both of them landing with a thump on the floor. They sat up against the bed, silly grins on their faces, as they tried to catch their breaths.

 

   Harry was the first to recover. "It's been a long time since I laughed that hard."

 

  "Same here." The fact that it was the first time ever that they'd shared laughter (and more) with each other wasn't lost on either young man.

 

0_0

 

   Eventually Draco shifted his long legs. The move drew Harry's attention back to the blond's groin, where the long, smooth cock apparently never had lost its hardness. It still stood stiffly at attention and fairly pulsated with a life of its own, the longer Harry stared at it. He felt his mouth water. Reaching out with a questing hand, he ran two fingers along the soft skin, from base to tip. Draco sighed in appreciation and opened his legs to give Harry better access. Emerald eyes lit up with a devilish grin, and Harry closed his fist around the offering, pumping up and down with a steady motion. Soon, Harry had Draco writhing with abandon, his head thrown back onto the bed, moaning loudly. Harry let go of the hard pole, got up and positioned himself in front of Draco. He buried his hands in the silky blond hair and teased the open lips with his own rapidly reviving dick. A slick, hot tongue slipped out and bathed his cockhead with saliva. The sight of the pink organ swirling around his red crown sent hot shivers down Harry's spine, and in no time he was thrusting deeply into the willing mouth. As he felt the first telltale signs of his impending orgasm, however, he made himself stop. It took more effort than he cared to admit, but he withdrew from the clinging lips and got back on the bed, reaching for his wand.

 

   Draco watched this with interest. He'd intended to top, but was perfectly willing to be fucked again. If Harry didn't mind, though …

 

   He didn't. Harry leered at his companion, twirling the slender rod. Only now did Draco notice that it was his own Hawthorn, not the famous Holly wand. "What are you waiting for?"

 

   Draco scrambled up and joined Harry on the rumpled bed. Kneeling next to him, he ran an appreciative hand down the broad chest to fondle the swollen genitals, which were already slick with pre-come. He gently pried the wand from Harry's unresisting fingers, giving it a quick swish to Conjure more lubricant into Harry's palm. "Where do you want me?"

 

   Harry reached out to coat Draco's straining shaft with the slick oil. Looking deeply into his lover's eyes, he leaned forward and breathed into his mouth. "In my arse."

 

   Draco sucked in a sharp breath, along with Harry's waiting tongue, as the bald statement sent shivers down his spine. He leaned into the warm mouth, kissing back avidly, as the knowing fingers prepared him. Finally, Harry withdrew both his tongue and hand and looked at Draco, a definite challenge in his eyes.

 

   "Come on; I want you to take me."

 

   The challenge was instantly accepted as Harry once more cupped and hefted the tightening balls.

 

   "How?" Draco asked hoarsely, too aroused for his usual eloquence.

 

   Harry gave one last, long, leisurely stroke to Draco's cock, then turned around, positioning himself on his hands and knees. Looking back over his shoulder, he threw a smoldering glance at his lover.

 

   "Like this. I want you to fuck me, Draco; shove your prick into me and shoot your load into my arse. Come on; make me moan like you did when I was fucking you."

 

   As before, Harry talking dirty to him was just too powerful, more so when Draco was presented with that tempting backside. Growling deeply in his chest, Draco grabbed the smooth butt positioned so invitingly before him, and rubbed his cock between the rounded cheeks. He ground himself against Harry, for the moment still refraining to seek the small opening.

 

   Harry groaned in a mixture of arousal and frustration. He wiggled his hips, trying to guide Draco to where he wanted him, but Draco stubbornly refused to cooperate. Instead, he withdrew slightly, holding Harry's hips still. He surveyed the sleek, muscular back, the thrown-back head, the tightly-clenched globes flexing in his grasp. The sight gave him an idea. Without changing his kneeling position behind Harry, Draco leaned forward and bent over the small of his lover's back. He ran his lips and tongue over every surface he could reach, positioning his former rival's arse as he wished. The slightly hairy surface rubbed against his skin, and without thinking Draco fastened his mouth on one cheek, alternately licking, sucking and biting into Harry's buttock as if he was munching on a particularly juicy piece of fruit. It drove Harry absolutely wild.

 

   "Dammit, Malfoy, stop messing around! I need you inside me – now!"

 

   Draco was too aroused to remind Harry that _he'd_ been the one to advocate patience not all that long ago. Instead, he reached once more for his wand. Letting a generous amount of lube dribble directly onto Harry's crack, he rubbed it in, searching for the puckered hole. Once he'd found it, he pushed a slick finger inside, then a second, widening it for his entry. Harry was already pushing back and forth, exciting him further. Draco grasped his own cock, applying some more lubricant with a few strokes, then positioned himself. Withdrawing his fingers, he centered his cockhead against Harry's sphincter and _pushed_. There was resistance at first, but after a few seconds the steady pressure won out. Yielding to the invader, Harry relaxed, and a goodly portion of Draco's dick slid into him. Both men moaned in unison.

 

   "Oh Merlin. I could happily die like this," Draco groaned. It had been far too long since he'd last been with someone, and to have it be _Potter_ , of all people …

 

   _This is heady!_

 

   "No argument here," Harry panted, thinking fleetingly of a clearing in a dark forest, and a bleached-white, misty train station. Yes, this would be a _much_ better way to go.

 

   Slowly, carefully, Draco pressed deeper into the dark, hot depths of his lover's body. Finally, he could go no further. Pausing briefly to catch his breath, and to stop his head from spinning, he pulled back out again, groaning loudly as the tight ring of muscle gripped his shaft as if to keep him inside. Then, he pushed forward, sliding more easily now. Harry thrust back against him and soon hips met buttocks, their balls smacking against each other's as they established a hard, fast rhythm that drove them higher and higher into ecstasy. Draco's hands gripped Harry's waist tightly, leaving marks in the firm flesh as he hit Harry's prostate with nearly every plunge. Nearly delirious with lust, Harry balanced himself on one elbow and reached for his own cock. He timed his strokes with Draco's thrusts, so that it felt as if every downstroke pushed his cock out further, and each backstroke pulled it in again. Their tempo increased, until Draco felt, impossibly, that Harry's internal muscles clamped even more firmly around his cock. He slammed himself into the tight arse, finding it almost impossible to hold onto the sweat-slicked body. Suddenly, Harry gave a shout and stiffened; his hand worked furiously as hot semen spilled out of his spasming dick. As soon as Draco could feel the muscles relax, he thrust once, twice and came harder than all the other times before, coating Harry's insides with his hot come.

 

   When they could move again, they staggered across the hall into the bathroom. A quick shower shared was all they had energy for, and they fell into bed together, sleeping deeply through the night.

 

**07.**

**_Two Years On_ **

 

   To everyone's surprise, and against all predictions, Harry and Draco had grown from former rivals and enemies into a committed couple – or at least Draco liked to think so.

 

   At least _he_ was committed to their relationship, and he'd thought Harry was, too; lately, though, he'd begun to doubt.

 

   Things had been going so well – maybe too much so. Their friends and family, once they were made aware of the new state of affairs several months after that first shopping trip, had been in turn shocked, astounded, outright skeptical and lastly resigned to the inevitable when they'd reached the one-year mark. Ron had yelled and ranted, Hermione had wanted to check Harry for curses and potions, Pansy had sneered and scoffed, and Blaise had predicted eventual homicide, with even odds on who would kill whom first.

 

   _But we proved them wrong – every single one of them,_ Draco mused with justifiable pride. Sure, they'd had their ups and downs, and there had been days when either he or Harry had stormed out, vowing they'd sooner shack up with the Giant Squid rather than spend a single minute more in the other's company.

 

   They'd always come back. Both of them. _And every time, the make-up sex is better than before._

 

   Even their families, adopted or otherwise, had learned to accept them. The Weasleys had been wary of Draco at first, but when he never was anything but unfailingly polite (Narcissa and Andromeda had finally managed to make his manners lessons stick), they soon lost their reserve – for Harry's sake at least. And when it became known that it was Draco's talent with Potions that saved an important project for George and WWW, he had pretty much won. He even received his very own Weasley jumper that Christmas, for which he'd thanked Molly profusely and then consigned it to the darkest corner of his wardrobe as soon as possible.

 

   Only Luna, Neville and, to everyone's surprise, Ginny had accepted them without much fuss. In fact, Ginny had said pragmatically when someone asked her whether she didn't mind that her ex-boyfriend was now shagging a man, and a former Death Eater to boot, "There's always been a lot of passion between them. Better they shag it out than go on hexing each other; there's less damage to the furniture that way." 

 

   Even Lucius had grudgingly accepted that his only son was partnered not only with a man, but that that man was Harry Potter. He'd learned his lesson, and was resigned to the fact  that Draco had every right to make his own choices. His only request was that they somehow find a way to produce a child or two to carry on the family lines. Since neither Harry nor Draco was fundamentally opposed to fatherhood, they promised to look into it when the time was right for them.

 

0_0

 

   So it was peace and good will around … until Draco noticed that Harry seemed no longer as interested in putting as much effort into their relationship. Or at least that's how it looked to Draco.

 

   _I wish I could be sure. One way or another; I think I'd rather have a clean break than this uncertainty!_

 

   Such were the blond's thoughts as he stood at the window overlooking the Weasley-Granger back yard, watching Harry romp with Teddy and assorted mostly redheaded children who clearly adored him.

 

   At least one of them would make a good father.

 

   Draco sighed; if things were truly going in the direction he feared they might, he was beginning to have serious doubts they'd ever get that far. And it all hinged on the strange fashion choices Harry had begun to make lately.

 

   Harry didn't insist on bespoke suits and designer fashions the way Draco did. But under Draco's influence, he'd eventually bought a couple of very nice Armani outfits Draco loved to see him wear when he wasn't in uniform – not least because they went so well with his own Armani suits.  Over the last few months, however, he'd begun to favour extremely casual clothes whenever it was just the two of them. Draco had tried to tell him tactfully that he'd appreciate a little more style, but so far any hint had fallen on deaf ears. The most effort Harry would make was to wear a blazer over a t-shirt, or dress trousers with his beloved leather jackets. Never both. Instead, Harry chose to wear designer clothes only when they were going out – and to very public functions at that.

 

   Draco took that to mean that Harry no longer cared to make an effort for Draco's sake alone, and was possibly trying to attract or impress someone new.

 

   _It's how I'd handle the end of an affair._

On the other hand, Harry was as passionate and eager a lover as Draco could wish for; that was the one area of their relationship that hadn't changed at all. If anything, they were even better together than in the beginning.

 

   _It doesn't fit. Every logical argument tells me I'm wrong about Harry wanting to end things, but … what if I'm not?_

 

   He was still pondering that conundrum when Hermione bustled into the living room on her way to the kitchen, interrupting his increasingly gloomy musing.

 

   She stopped and gave him a once-over. "My, [don't you look decorative](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/27doomeddraco_zps470ca401.jpg)! Almost as if you've stepped right out of the pages of _The Great Gatsby_ ," she smiled. "Or possibly _Brideshead Revisited_.  All gorgeous and nostalgic and broody and _doomed_. It rather suits you."

 

   He scowled, for once familiar with a Muggle cultural reference – if for no other reason than that  the Evelyn Waugh novel was set in his native Wiltshire, and therefore of interest even for a Wizard. "Nonsense. It's just … I'm hardly the type to play on the lawn, which is why I don't," he said somewhat stiffly.  Hermione just smiled.

 

   "It'd probably do you good, but not in that pretty white suit of yours, no," she agreed, crossing the room to stand next to him. "You'd have to dress more like Harry, that'd be much more suitable."

 

  Draco couldn't help making a moue of distaste as his eyes flew back to Harry. He was wearing narrow black jeans and a [bulky jumper in an absurdly loud pattern](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/29Harrycasual_zps20a9b510.jpg), in colours that did nothing for Harry's looks. Draco _hated_ it with a passion.

 

   "I suppose," he replied coldly, not wanting to betray his feelings to Hermione, who had not lost a whit of her quickness of mind.  Even now, her sharp brown eyes missed nothing.

 

   "What, you don't like Harry's outfit?" she asked lightly, [leaning against the window frame next to him](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/28Hermione_zpsd40579cc.jpg).

 

   "It's hideous," Draco blurted. "Why does he dress that way? It's almost like what he used to wear at Hogwarts!"

 

"Hardly that," Hermione protested. "These clothes aren't hand-me-downs, and they actually fit him quite well. Those jeans … wow."

 

   Draco frowned, momentarily distracted.  "Granger, are you by any chance drooling over my boyfriend?"

 

   The twinkle in her eyes would've rivaled Dumbledore's. "Not _per se_. More like admiring his arse."

 

   "Granger!"

 

   She sniggered at his obvious shock. "What? You have to admit, it's a very _nice_ arse."

 

  Of course it was, as Draco had every reason to know, but … "You're married!"

 

   "Doesn't mean I'm blind – or dead," she giggled. "Actually, I've seen more of Harry's  … erm, _assets_ – and he of mine, if you must know – on our little camping trip during Seventh Year than either of us likes to remember. Or you and Ron would be comfortable knowing, I'd guess." She paused, giving him a speculative look. "That being said, what exactly is bugging you?"

 

   "Nothing."

 

   "Right. Which is why you're hiding in here, watching Harry from afar instead of helping him with the kids."

 

   "I … I'm not exactly comfortable around so many children," Draco hedged.

 

   "You do very well with Teddy, and stop procrastinating," she told him gently but firmly. Then she laid a hand on his arm. "Malfoy, it's obvious that you have a problem. I'd like to help if you'll let me, but how can I do that if you won't tell me what the problem _is_?"

 

   Every instinct Draco possessed rebelled at the thought of sharing his doubts and concerns with Hermione, but he wasat his wits' end, and she _did_ know Harry better than almost anyone else … surely any help would be better than none?

 

   _Although I can't tell her about my suspicion that Harry might be preparing to dump me._

 

   "Why does he dress so … so commonly?" he said at last. "I know he can do better, and he does, sometimes, but … always when we're going out. Never when it's just us."

 

   _Ah._ Hermione hid a smile. She'd noticed that Harry had started to dress for comfort rather than style again, and wondered how someone like Malfoy, who was very concerned about appearances, would cope with it. Harry's friends knew that his fashion choices sometimes ran towards the … eclectic, to put it nicely.

 

   "Don't you dress differently for official functions, business or just company?" she asked. "More … formally?"

 

   "Of course," Draco said impatiently. "But I also choose my wardrobe to please those I care about!"

 

   Hermione nodded. "I know you do. But Malfoy … Draco … Harry isn't you."

 

   "Evidently not. What I fail to see is why Potter is going out of his way to make himself … well, not ugly, because he isn't, but … deliberately unattractive!"

 

   "Aren't you exaggerating just a bit?" Hermione bristled, unwilling to accept this kind of criticism of her friend.

 

   Frustrated, Draco pushed his hair back from his forehead. "No. Yes. Maybe, a little. But …"

 

   A dreamy voice spoke them from the doorway. "Harry wasn't always a Potter," [Luna](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/30luna_zpsc4872ebe.jpg) murmured, drifting towards them. She was not yet heavy with child, only just showing, but hadn't lost anything of her ethereal movements – much to the disgust of every other woman in their circle. She lifted her slightly protuberant blue eyes towards Draco's face. "Sometimes, even plate armour is just a suit." Then she left, gliding back into the hallway as silently as she'd come.

 

   Draco shook his head and glanced at his hostess. "Well, _that_ made no sense, as usual. Cryptic, thy name is Lovegood."

 

   Usually Hermione was the first to share his amusement over Luna's _non sequiturs_ , but this time she surprised him by shaking her head.

 

   "Not this time. I think Luna was making perfect sense for once. And it's Scamander now."

 

   "She'll always be Lovegood to me, like you'll be Granger and the Ginger Harpy is the Weaselette," Draco muttered, peeved. "What do you mean, she was making sense? Do you know what's going on with Harry?"

 

   "I'm pretty sure I do, yes, and apparently so does Luna."

 

   "Then what is it?" he cried. "It's been driving me mad for weeks now, and I want an end to it – one way or another!"

 

   Hermione drew a deep breath, debating her choices. The first option was to explain to Draco why Harry had gone back to the comfortable clothes he'd used to wear before the two of them became lovers. It was actually quite simple and fairly obvious, if one knew Harry well. The question was, would Malfoy believe her?

 

   _Probably not; it's too easy for that Slytherin mind of his. Option two, then._

"I'm not going to tell you," she said slowly, raising her hand to stave off his immediate angry protest. "No, hear me out. You're an intelligent man; I have every faith that you can figure it out on your own." Hermione patted his arm reassuringly. "Just consider everything you know about Harry – _really_ everything, mind – bear in mind what Luna just said, and _then_ draw your own conclusions. I'm sure you'll arrive at the right one."

 

   She gave him a soft, sincere smile and turned to leave. Right before she stepped back into the hallway, she winked. "I've usually found it helps to make a list."

 

**08.**

   _How in Merlin's name was making a list going to help?_

   It was nearly a week after the gathering at the Granger-Weasley residence, and Draco had cursed both Granger and Lovegood countless times. Whenever he had a free minute from his business, he compulsively replayed the exchange he'd had with them, and much to his chagrin found that he couldn't get it out of his mind.

 

   It was driving him mad.

 

   Having Harry away on an assignment didn't exactly help, either.

 

   With a muttered curse, Draco slammed the book he'd been trying to read on the antique side table and stormed into his own suite at the Manor. For once, the tastefully-styled rooms failed to soothe his nerves, and he paced angrily back and forth in front of the main fireplace.

 

   Finally forcing himself to calm down, Draco Summoned a house elf and asked for a bottle of wine – the good burgundy, not the dry Pinot Grigio he usually preferred. This was _definitely_ a red wine problem.

 

   A flick of his wand ignited the flames in the grate, and he leaned on the [black-and-silver marble mantelpiece](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/31fireplace_zps45e1381a.jpg) while sipping his first glass. Losing himself momentarily in contemplation of the stark symmetry, he finally managed to regain his mental equilibrium and resigned himself to the inevitable.

 

   If Granger really was the brightest Witch of their generation and thought that a list would help, he'd bloody well sit himself down and make one!

 

_But I'll be damned if I actually write stuff down!_

0_0

 

   A soft-spoken spell pulled a high-backed Chesterfield armchair over to the fireplace, and Draco put his feet up on the matching ottoman. Switching the burgundy for some Firewhisky, he watched the flickering flames through the [cut crystal filled with amber liquid](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/32whiskeyglass_zpsb4e410d0.jpg), finally resorting to a meditation technique Snape had taught him half a lifetime ago to order his thoughts. As he'd hoped, the warmth and alcohol combined to send him into a mild trance and helped relax the knotted muscles in his neck and back. When he re-emerged from his light almost-trance some time later, darkness had fallen and he joined his parents for dinner. Afterwards, he excused himself and once more retreated to his own rooms.

 

   _So what are the facts? _

_One - whenever he's not in uniform or required to actually wear dress robes, Harry prefers Muggle clothing. Two - he knows how to dress stylishly, and even appropriate for the situation; suits and ties for very formal occasions where he's likely to run into a lot of strangers, more casual blazer-and-dress-trousers combinations at smaller gatherings, often when older persons or someone whom he owes a certain amount of respect are present. Three - with friends – and myself, when we're not going out – he prefers to dress for both convenience and … well, comfort._

Reluctantly, he added another item.

 

_And lastly, four - he doesn't seem to care that I find most of his comfort clothes rather ugly._

Draco contemplated his 'list' for a few minutes, nostalgically recalling the New Year's celebrations at the Ministry last year. Harry had looked absolutely drop-dead _gorgeous_ in a [vintage-inspired black dinner suit](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/36tuxdark_zps3716ce1d.jpg)!

 

   Not that Draco himself had cut any less of a dashing figure in his [spotless white jacket](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/35whitetux_zps6cda05a8.jpg), even if he said so himself. He grinned at the memory of how many Witches had sighed longingly as they walked past. _And there were quite a few Wizards as well,_ he remembered with satisfaction. Because neither he nor Harry had had eyes for anyone but each other.

 

   Memories of the night they'd had following that soirée caused Draco to shift in his chair as he felt his cock stiffen. Harry had been near-insatiable, and they'd made love almost until dawn. Sighing, he tamped down on his incipient arousal as he instinctively pictured his lover's [well-defined naked chest](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/25Harrywaiting_zpscb0b8710.jpg). He had a feeling as if he was on to something with this list thing, and he didn't want to lose his train of thought.

 

   _So Harry tends to dress up when in company and for formal occasion, but dresses down when he's with his friends. Right. What other point did Granger make?_

Ah, of course. 'Harry isn't you.'

 

   _Well, duh, to borrow an expression from the Colonials._ _Thanks a lot, Mrs Obvious!_

But … what did it mean? In what way was Harry different from him – or rather, he different from Harry? Eventually, it came to him.

 

   _I … like to dress formally at all times, if possible. Or at least, far less casually than Harry. He's often enough remarked that I'm really rather conservative in that regard. I also take pains to always look my best for the ones I care about; it's a matter of showing them my respect that way._

   Not that there was anything wrong with being conservative; while Draco had deliberately discarded a lot of the things Lucius had taught him, he still believed in _some_ of them, like good manners, staying in control of one's emotions at least in public and a certain degree of reserve towards strangers. If that meant conservatism, so be it. Actually, Harry himself kept a certain amount of distance towards people he didn't know well. He only ever 'let his hair down', so to speak, with his most trusted friends.

 

   _The very people for whom he doesn't bother to dress up for. Like the Weasleys, and Longbottom, and Lovegood._

_And me._

Draco suddenly sat up, eyes wide. Was that it? Was Harry's overly casual, I-don't-care-what-I-look-like mode of dress a matter of _trust_?

 

   That would certainly explain a lot. Draco refilled his glass with trembling hands. Could it really be that easy?

 

  Unbidden, Luna's words floated to the forefront of his mind. 'Harry wasn't always a Potter' – could it mean that Harry just hadn't grown up as _would befit_ a Potter?

 

   _James Potter was as much a Pureblood as Mother and Father, and so was Harry's Godfather; even with some influence from Lily Evans, he'd have been taught many of the same things I was! Weasley, Longbottom, Lovegood … for all that I tend to mock them, they understand some things by instinct simply because it's part of who we are – Wizards and Witches from old families. The Malfoys just chose to follow the ancient traditions more rigorously than others._

It wasn't even Blood prejudice; it was merely a way of life that had been bred into their very bones. A way which Harry and Hermione, and others like them who had grown up in ignorance of the Wizarding world, had to learn bit by bit _because they'd simply had no way of knowing._

Draco's pulse was racing; he could _feel_ that he was only one more step away from unraveling the whole mystery. What else had Luna said? 'Even [plate armour](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/34armor_zps0aadfbe3.jpg) sometimes is just a suit.'

 

   _What in Salazar's name does that mean, though? Plate armour … suit … a suit of armour …_

_A suit as armour?_

0_0

And there it was, the last piece of the puzzle. If what Draco had deduced before, that Harry wore quirky, eclectic clothes only for and with those people he trusted, was true … couldn't it follow that he considered his stylish, formal clothes a kind of armour, literally _designed_ to [keep people at bay](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/33barmaniharry_zps2ab442aa.jpg)?

 

 Draco knew that Harry's dark good looks combined with a designer suit could have a positively lethal effect on others – after all, they managed to dazzle _him_ on a regular basis. People all but slobbered in their eagerness to get close to the Saviour, but as long as Harry maintained a distant façade, they didn't dare cross into his personal space.

 

   Only a privileged few were allowed to do that.

 

   _And I've become one of the few. Alongside his oldest friends, those who stood by his side from the start and saw it through until the end. He lets us come close because he trusts us completely._

_With us, he has no need of armour._

Peace settled over Draco like a mantle. He felt deep within that he'd found the solution – Harry was _not_ going to leave him. As he wasn't leaving Harry. They just had different ways of showing affection, respect and love … and as long as they had that, they'd be fine.

 

   He leaned back in his chair, pouring the last of his wine. The flames in the fireplace  reflected in the crystal and the liquid within glowed a deep, molten ruby as he raised the glass in a quiet toast.

 

   "Granger and Lovegood – your very good health, ladies. Thank you."  

 

**09.**

   It was February again, and their third anniversary was coming up. At long last (and after some determined nagging from Draco), Harry had agreed to fulfill his promise and give his lover a taste of the infamous petits-four those pastel shirts at Harrods had reminded him of.

 

   "I do _not_ nag, Potter!"

 

   Harry laughed and planted a kiss on Draco's head from behind as he headed towards the bathroom. "No? What would you call it then?" Over the past week, ever since he'd remembered that tidbit, Draco had whinged, begged, pouted and sulked until Harry relented at last. Not that he wouldn't have anyway, but Draco didn't need to know that.

 

   "Creative persuasion," Draco replied promptly.

 

  "I'll have to remember that, then," Harry smirked. Draco could be a pain in the butt, but Merlin, he was cute when he tried to get his way! Really, [The Courtyard](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/39courtyard2_zpsf646eb38.jpg) wasn't all that special, just a quaint little tea room in Poole that served the _best_ homemade afternoon teas Harry had ever had. The place was well-hidden, its entrance in a narrow passage between two houses and hardly sat a dozen customers, but the atmosphere was friendly, and the baked goods were simply first rate. He could easily have Apparated down there and picked up a carton, but nooo … Draco wanted to see for himself. 

 

   And what Draco wanted, he usually got.

 

0_0

 

   Harry grinned evilly as he stepped into the shower. He'd already placed a phone call to the elderly pair of sisters who ran the tea shop and asked them to prepare a sample platter of their best cakes; knowing Draco's sweet tooth, he wouldn't be able to restrain himself, and gobble up every single morsel on his plate. And Harry's, if he let him.

 

   Then Draco would be on a sugar high all night. Which usually meant that he'd want to get shagged every which way.

 

  That would please Harry very much. 

 

  Whistling cheerfully, Harry reached for a towel as he stepped [out of the shower](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/40danbathroom_zpsa06c09bf.jpg); the sooner he got ready, the sooner they could go. And eat cake. And come home. And shag.

 

   Perfect.

 

0_0

 

Draco finished styling his hair, then went towards the wardrobe to pick something appropriate to wear for their outing. He'd persuaded Harry to wear the [new two-tone-grey Armani combo with lime-green accessories](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/33carmanilime_zps9cffec69.jpg) – formal, but with just the right touch of whimsy to appeal to Harry. He'd be wearing [grey Armani, too, albeit in a more classic style](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/33aarmanidraco_zps79b55dc5.jpg) – _aren't we lucky that one designer suits us both?_ – and was reaching for a belt when the narrow strip of leather slipped off its hanger and disappeared in the depths of Draco's wardrobe.   

 

0_0

 

   He looked around for his wand to _Accio!_ the stupid thing, but realized that he'd left it on the sink in the bathroom – and naturally, Harry the Prat had locked the door. Unfortunately, Draco had no other belt that would fit his trousers, so he had no choice but to rummage in the bottom of the wardrobe until he found it.

 

   Instead, he came across a squishy, rustling package. Curious, Draco pulled it out. The wrapping paper was torn, and what looked like a sleeve was hanging out. After a moment's confusion, Draco recognized it as the jumper Mrs Weasley had knitted for him their first Christmas. Sighing, he shook the jumper free and held it up against the light. It really was passing ugly, what with the fuzzy wool and the unattractive yellowish-brown colour – had the woman _no_ sense of style? With a shudder, Draco recalled the various shades of maroon Ron Weasley had been wearing at school; it had been as much of a mis-match with the man's still-ginger hair as this … ochre? mustard?… would be with his own blond.

 

   Naturally, Harry with his bloody raven locks could wear any colour, and it would suit him. Not that he cared; when Draco had confessed his suspicions about Harry's motives behind his wardrobe choices to him months later, Harry had pretty much confirmed Draco's conclusions, and apologized for causing him to worry.

 

   As a result, a compromise had been reached; Draco agreed to dress more casually in private, and Harry would make more of an effort at style. It worked out fairly well.

 

   But this jumper … surely not even Harry could find any redeeming feature in this monstrosity! It was simply _all wrong_.

 

0_0

 

   Since not even a good haircut could completely tame his messy mop of hair, Harry was soon done with his ablutions. He pulled on a pair of boxers, then wrapped a bathrobe around himself; better to dress in the bedroom, with its floor-length mirror and much more space. Draco was waiting for him by the window, already fully dressed.

 

   Harry stopped dead in his tracks, not even noticing when the bathroom door hit him in the back. Speechless with surprise, he took in Draco's uncharacteristically tousled hair, the khaki cargo pants and … was that a Weasley jumper?  

 

   "Draco? What …?"

 

   The blond crossed his arms across his chest in an unconsciously defensive gesture. "I found this at the back of my wardrobe," he said, looking very uncomfortable. "And as it's just going to be the two of us today, and we're not exactly planning to go to a five-star restaurant, I thought it'd be okay if I, er …" Draco's voice trailed off, and he snuck a glance at Harry from under his lashes. There was uncertainty in those grey eyes, and something else that Harry had been hoping to see for months. 

 

   Harry shook his head and had to clear his throat twice before he could speak without his voice quavering. 

 

   "This has got to be [the most hideous, ugly jumper](http://i1306.photobucket.com/albums/s562/germankitty/Unlocking%20Harrys%20Dress%20Code/41Weasleysweater_zpsd679fb82.jpg) Molly has ever produced," he said flatly, approaching Draco with slow, measured steps. "It clashes not only with your hair, but makes your skin look positively sallow – almost like Snape's," he added. "The jumper is shapeless, too big, looks scratchy and will probably leave fuzz all over the furniture."

 

   Draco swallowed hard. He knew it wasn't the most attractive garment he'd ever worn – truth be told, he'd thought exactly what Harry had just enumerated, but surely he'd make at least a small concession for the fact that Molly had knitted it? Or that he, Draco, was actually _wearing_ it?

 

   Harry was now directly in front of him, the green eyes holding more warmth than Draco had ever seen in them. With a rush, his confidence returned.

 

   "Why don't you tell me how I really look, Potter?" he murmured with just a hint of his customary snark even as a slow smile was forming around his lips.

 

   An answering smile curved Harry's full mouth as he took Draco into his arms and leaned in to kiss him. "You look … absolutely perfect."

 

And it was.

 

 

   

                                        **_Finite._**

 

  

 

  


End file.
